


Out of Time

by dhazellouise



Series: Time-travelling Arya [4]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, time-travel fix it, time-travelling Arya
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2019-06-30 09:15:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 28,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15748716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dhazellouise/pseuds/dhazellouise
Summary: The Night's King is winning and the army of the dead is marching towards Winterfell. Bran Stark must do everything in his power to save everyone. He wargs his sister, Arya, to someone in the past where she must prepare the Seven Kingdoms for the Great War to come. However, what Arya didn't expect was end up in Lyanna Stark's infant body.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> You all might notice that I'm posting back my old stories in this fandom. It's because some psychopath hacked into my computer and deleted most of my stories in my AO3 account, which means including all the comments, kudos and bookmarks my stories have accumulated through the years. So I'm sorry if my stories keep popping up in the search browser. I apologize for the inconvenience.

* * *

.

With Needle in hand, and Nymeria and her wolf pack surrounding her in the Godswood, Arya watched as her little brother came back into the present. The whites in his eyes reverting back to normal as he finished warging.

He looked at her with tired eyes and said, "They are close."

Arya tightened her grip on her sword at Bran's words.

 _Fear cuts deeper than swords._  She thought as she tried to squish the rising worry in her heart.

"Queen Daenerys and her dragons are dead. Our brother, Jon, disppeared." Bran continued to say, "I can no longer see him at all… while the unsullied army, the Dothraki, the wildlings, the Valemen and the Northmen are being overrun by the wights. Arya, by this point, there will be no army to defend Winterfell…We will soon lose our home..."

"I have to go out there." Arya said desperately to Brandon, straightening up. She could sense Nymeria and her pack becoming on edge. "I can't just stay here and wait for them to come here, Bran! I can't stay here without doing anything at all!"

"I'm sorry sister, that Jon left you with the task of protecting a cripple." Bran said apologetically.

Arya opened her mouth to protest that it wasn't what she meant at all. However, her brother interrupted her before she could speak again.

"I know you wanted to go out there." Bran stared at her in understanding. "I know you wanted to fight beside Jon, but I also knew you will remain here and follow Jon's orders too."

"Then what do you want me to do, Bran?" Arya asked, placing her hands on his shoulders. She stood before him while Bran sat in the wheeled-chair that the Maester had built. "Now, that you have seen that the Night's King is almost at our gates? Sansa is somewhere marshaling the rest of the men in Winterfell and assuring the women and children to stay strong. But what about us? Do we simply watch and do nothing?"

"No," Bran stated, regarding her with a grave look. "My time for watching in the distance is over… Now, it's time to do do what must be done."

"What do you intend to do?" She asked, searching her brother's eyes. "How are we going to stop the Night's King from descending upon us?"

"Arya, listen." Bran said, reaching out to grip her wrists and met her gaze. "You are here with me for a reason. You are here because I have foreseen it happened… because your role is important for what I am about to do."

"What? What is it?" She asked in mounting curiosity and mild irritation at Bran's cryptic words. She always misliked it when Bran spoke to her in that way ever since he had become the three-eyed-raven.

"Do you recall what happened to Hodor?"

"Yes, of course." She replied, remembering the explanation Bran had told her about what had occurred with Hodor. Bran had been gazing into the past when he had used Walder to warg into the future Hodor to save him and Meera from the army of wights.

Arya's eyes widened when she realized where Bran was heading with this conversation.

Was Bran going to do the same thing to her?

"No, Arya. You're not going to end up like Hodor." Bran said hurriedly upon seeing her reaction. "I have seen it. Your mind will not be destroyed when I do it because you are a warg Arya. Same as me…but stronger."

Arya frowned doubtfully.

"What happened to Hodor was a mistake." Bran stated. "It was my first attempt at influencing another person with my warging abilities, but I have learned from that. What I did with Hodor before was forced him out of his past mind and transfer him into the future him. It wasn't an easy process because Hodor wasn't a warg at all. But with you Arya, it will be different. You will be successful. With your warging ability, I can guide you into warging into someone in the past."

"Someone in the past?" Arya wondered out loud. "So you plan to help me warg into someone that is not me?"

"Yes," Bran answered, letting out a weary sigh. "Because I plan to send you further back before you were ever born. To a time where you can help the Seven Kingdoms prepare for the Great War to come."

"That far?" She asked in surprised, "And is it even possible to warg into someone else?"

"Of course, it's possible, like it's possible for us to warg into animals." Bran gazed at her pointedly. "However, warging into a human will be difficult. It is for this reason that you may require to warg into someone from the Stark line because they may be suitable for you if the person is from the same bloodline, and who has the same warging ability as you and I have. But most importantly, you must warg into the mind of an infant, which will be the best choice for an infant's mind is still fragile and can be easily controlled."

Bran explained everything this to her with an air of nonchalance. It would have made others shudder at the thought of destroying the mind of a growing infant, but Arya no longer have any conscience, especially now when her family, her home, and the world was at stake.

If this was what Bran wanted her to do to save what was left of her family and home, then Arya was going to do it.

"Who do you intend for me to warg into?" Arya said warily, her eyes narrowing.

"Do you trust me?" Bran asked instead.

"Of course," she said simply.

"Then, take my hand."

Arya did so.

"We are running out of time."

Those were the last words Arya heard from her brother before Bran used his power as a greenseer to catapult her into the past and then pushed her into the mind of a babe.

The babe whose name was Lyanna Stark.

 

 

 

 


	2. From These Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Beginning of Arya's second life

Arya didn't completely understand what exactly happened. One second she was holding Bran's hands and listening to him speak, and then the next thing she knew Arya had woken up into an unfamiliar surroundings and gazing up at two strangers who looked surprisingly larger than her.

Suddenly, an ear-splitting cry pierced the air, which took Arya by surprise when she soon realize that it came from her mouth.

"Ngaaahhh!"

The woman, looming over her, appeared startled at the sound, and immediately tried to console her, "Shhh….Lyanna shhh…hush now child…"

Instead of quieting down, Arya instinctively cried all the more in distress when she heard the familiar name, unable to control her infantile response at all. Because there was only one person who bore that name in the Stark family, and that person was someone who had been stupid enough to start a war over her.

Of all the people Arya was supposed to warg into, Bran had chosen someone whom Arya had considered to be in the same level of idiocy as her older sister when they were children. She had known her Aunt Lyanna must be no different from Sansa when her sister still harbored those silly notions of valiant knights, or handsome princes rescuing a fair maiden; albeit Sansa may have ceased thinking that way after suffering many atrocities while under the Lannisters and the Boltons. However, it could not be said the same for her Aunt, whom may have died with her rosy viewpoint of the world remaining untarnished.

That kind of foolish thinking would get anyone killed in the Seven Kingdoms, and Arya would do well to learn from that if she had every intention to win the game of thrones. And she would do so by becoming unforgiving and ruthless, and by doing the things what she did best - by killing people.  _A lot_  of people. Starting with Cersei Lannister, and all the goddamn names on her list.  _Again_ , seeing that Arya was now back in the past, where she knew that the people she had killed previously were probably still alive at this time. Regardless, at the current state she was in - being a babe an all that - it would probably take years for Arya to enact her plans in killing those whom had help destroy her family in her first life.

Even now, it was hard for Arya to stop her ceaseless wailing.

"Ngaaahhh!"

"What is the matter darling?" the woman picked Arya up from the bed and then regarded her with Stark grey eyes.

Try as she might to stop her bawling, Arya only ended up feeling frustrated at her utter helplessness. Considering that she had only just taken the babe's mind not a moment ago, Arya had yet to squash the other consciousness - the babe Lyanna Stark - who by now could sense another occupant in her head, and was reacting towards Arya in a way that she gathered as defensive.

This may be the reason Arya could not yet control the emotional response of a babe that was not fully her. For all she knew, it would take Arya a day or two to wipe out Lyanna Stark's existence, yet thinking about what she needed to do made Arya feel uneasy. Arya may have killed people before in cold blood, but the thing she was about to do the baby would be akin to killing her Aunt. Her father's beloved sister.

It would be considered as kinslaying. And nothing was so accursed as kinslaying in the eyes of both Gods and men.

Despite this, however, Arya did not see a better option in the foreseeable future if one weighed in the looming war against the Night's King and his dead army, Arya had no choice on the matter, but to do it. Besides with her knowledge of the future, Arya was the only one who could do something to prepare the Seven Kingdoms for the coming war against the Others.

More than that, perhaps the Seven Kingdoms would be better off without her Aunt Lyanna. Arya told herself. She could prevent Robert's Rebellion if she took over the babe's mind and just simply forget about what could have been.

It was the only way...

Arya continued to cry despite the woman's best effort to sooth her into silence.

"Shhhh….Lya…Mother is here, dear one…shhh…no more crying." the woman said, rocking Arya in her arms while Arya wriggled, feeling uncomfortable at being held in such a way.

"Mayhap she is hungry, Lyarra." The man suggested, peering over the woman's shoulder to look at Arya.

Arya gazed at the both of them. She found it extremely unsettling to see these two people who were supposed to be her grandparents in her first life, to see them alive and well and treating Arya like she was their own daughter.

"Mayhap she is," the woman answered, securing Arya more firmly against her chest. "I hadn't fed her since we break our fast this morn."

The woman, whom Arya supposed she should start calling her 'mother', gradually pulled down her chemise and bared her breast.

At once, Arya's mind recoiled from the sight.

 _I'm not hungry!_ She wanted to yell. But the babe that was still in her - the true Lyanna Stark - felt the opposite, and started rooting for a tit to suckle on, and when the babe found it, Arya had no way of voicing anymore complaints as her mouth was instantly flooded with the taste of her mother's milk.

No words could ever describe how Arya felt at being treated in that instant. This was certainly not something she wanted when she had accepted Bran's suggestion!

Arya whimpered helplessly.

_._

Much later, Arya thought it was best for her to acknowledge that she was just a babe again, and would surely need special attention from her 'parents'. Not to mention Arya may also need to accept that the woman was going to be her mother from now on, and the bearded man, her father, even though a part in Arya rebelled against the thought.

As far as she was concerned, she already had a father and mother, and both were dead; killed by her family's enemies. Nevertheless, if Arya planned to live long in this time, it was better if she would immediately get accustom to her bearings as soon as possible.

Thus, Arya didn't wait another day to completely absorb the small consciousness of her Aunt Lyanna. After all, Lyanna Stark was merely a babe with a frail mind. The babe didn't put much of a struggle when Arya had slowly overwhelmed her. It was so easy that she had felt only relief when Arya could finally control her body. Although she still struggled at the fact that she had more physical limitations now than before. Nonetheless, Arya tried to compensate by mentally preparing herself for what she intended to do.

There was no doubt that Arya would have to train harder and earlier than in her previous life. More importantly, Arya would also have to go back to Braavos and joined the Faceless Men, for surely Arya won't be able to go on killing anyone on her list - and other people - if she had only one disguise. Gaining the skills of the Faceless Men would give Arya the advantage once she started killing any High Lords and Ladies of the realm. She needed the power to don on different faces to accomplish the things that she needed to do. Of course, Arya would have to make some of her kills looked like it was an accident, or people would use this opportunity to start accusing others for the assassinations and start a war.

As Arya continued to adapt to her new role as the daughter of Lyarra and Rickard Stark, she never did stop imagining the gruesome deaths of her enemies by her hand, even while Arya was lying in her bed with her piss or shit soaking her small clothes, or while she was suckling her mother's milk. Arya was constantly contemplating about the myriad of ways of ending the lives of those who have betrayed her family before. Thinking about the Night's King and his army of wights only came second in her mind when Arya's first priority was eliminating those people who would potentially cause unnecessary conflict within the realm; wars that they could not afford when faced by a far bigger threat lurking Beyond-the-Wall.

Still, time seemed to drag on when trapped in a babe's body, and it was with a great degree of impatience that Arya waited for her body to develop fast. The only solace Arya had with her current dilemma was seeing her father again, who was no more than a few years older than her in this time. It was such an odd thing to contemplate. Stranger still to call him her brother when he was in fact Arya's father in a different lifetime.

Her mother, Lyarra Stark, had brought Arya to the dining Hall to join the rest of the family to break their fast. It was there when Arya had first caught sight of her father. He was sitting beside another boy Arya hadn't seen before. The two boys had greeted Lyarra Stark at first, and then they had come rushing in to smile down at Arya, calling her 'Lya,' or 'Little sister' while holding her little hands or brushing their fingers against her cheeks.

Arya had instantly wept upon seeing her father. It had felt so strange to see him so young, but she knew that face, even without the beard and the wrinkles yet. She knew those dark grey eyes which had often regarded her with love and warm and assurance every time Arya had needed it. She had missed her father so much that it was such a shock to see him alive again.

Arya would never forget the moment when she had seen Ilyn Payne swung the great sword Ice to cut her father's head off. She would never forget it, nor the rage she had felt upon seeing Joffrey's grinning face.

Now, she was simply happy to see her father alive and well and no more than a boy. So Arya had tried to form words to express her joy upon seeing him once more but Arya could only manage an incoherent gurgle. Her hands flailing towards him, wanting to be held.

It took longer for the young Ned Stark to understand what Arya had wanted from him, and when he finally did, he laughed.

"I think she wanted me to carry her, mother." He had said musingly, looking towards their mother while extending his arms. "May I?"

"Of course, Ned. Here…" Lyarra Stark had said, placing Arya in the other boy's arms. "But be gentle with your sister alright?"

"Always, mother."

The instant Arya was in her father's arms, she quietened down and reached out to touch his face. She listened to him laugh again, and it warmed Arya's heart, suddenly feeling like she was finally, and truly home.

"Little Lya," Her father-brother had stated, poking her in the cheek and smiling softly down at her. "You have, without a doubt, the most beautiful smile that I have ever seen, even the Others' heart would have melted at the sight of it…Though probably its best if you hide those precious smiles, or someone is going to steal you away, for surely  _no one_  can resist them!"

"And if someone dares to steal our little sister we'll surely get Lyanna back! Right, Ned?" The other boy declared, whom Arya assumed must be her Uncle Brandon.

"Of course," Her father had replied, smiling. "Even if it means calling our banners and going to war."

 _Not in this lifetime, you're not_. Arya thought with conviction, gazing at her father's face, and then at her Uncle Brandon's.  _I'm not going to let either of you die, or let our House fall into ruin if I can't help it. No Stark will be dying this time. Because the only people who will die are those who had, and will, cause our family harm. I'll end our enemies before they end us. I'll swear to the Old Gods and the new._

Arya silently vowed.

.

It was frustrating to say the least that Arya had to relearn everything from the beginning once more, like crawling, sitting up from the bed, and then trying to speak. Although this time, achieving her milestones came faster and natural to her, considering this was the second time she had done it. Her progress certainly set her apart from the other children her age and it made her parents proud, even Maester Walys had said that,  _'she will grow to become such an remarkable young lady one day'._

Arya strongly disagreed. She was  _never, ever_  going to be a lady. She wasn't going to stay long in Winterfell and waste her time at being a 'Lady' because Arya needed to do a lot of things before the Night's King decided to pay the Seven Kingdoms a visit. And certainly, Arya won't be able to accomplish anything at all if she married anyone and become a broodmare for any Lord or Prince who fancied themselves in love with her.

 ** _No_**. Arya won't let that happened to her. She won't allow herself to be shackled to any man.

Not even a King.

.

"Shit," was the first word Arya had uttered to her parents one day. She had done so just to see the look of horror on their faces. It seemed there was still fun to be had even while she remained in a child's body.

Arya simply loved to ruin the people's expectations of her.

"No! That can't be her first word!" her mother, Lyarra, had moaned in despair after she had gotten over the shock of hearing the curse word from Arya. "That is  _not_ fitting for a proper lady to say! Where did you think she learned that word, Rickard?"

Arya giggled in response, looking up at them from her sitting position.

"Perhaps she may have heard it from the boys." Her father had said, disapproval showing heavily on his face. "I shall talk to them later, Lyarra. I won't abide such words passing from their lips, certainly now that they have a sister who may be listening and learning from them as they speak."

"I agree that you need to talk to them, but don't be too harsh on them Rickard. I'm sure they may have let it slipped by accident." Her mother said while she reached out to lift Arya up from the bed and looked at her expectantly.

"Now, Lyanna," her mother began, propping Arya carefully in her arms. "Please say Mama. Ma – Ma. Say Ma- Ma, Lya."

Instead of following her, Arya smiled and said, "Shit."

Arya saw her father bringing up his hand to cover his face in helplessness while her mother looked absolutely dismayed.

Her parents should have known by then that Arya was never going to be a lady like everyone expected.

And as Arya eventually grew older, everyone in Winterfell started to view her as a wild, unruly child. It was no different from her previous life. To them, she was Lord Rickard Stark's rebellious daughter, or as some would like to call her,  _'Lyanna the Defiant'._

Anyone would have mistaken her for a stable boy or one of the servant's children every time Arya came back from her adventures looking filthy and with her hair all a tangle, like a bird had flown in to nest on her head. Although her hair was more manageable now than before, where she recalled how her brother Jon had ofttimes mussed up her hair affectionately and called her 'Little sister'.

 _Jon_ …Thinking about him, or the rest of her siblings, always made Arya feel sad. She missed her family so much, but it was Jon she missed the most. Sometimes she ended up in the Godswood to brood over the black pool, knowing that there won't be a Jon Snow in this life if Arya didn't follow on her Aunt's tragic footsteps.

Until now, Arya had trouble accepting that Jon was not, in fact, her brother. But her cousin.

"He is our brother!" Arya remembered saying vehemently to Bran when he had revealed this information to her. "He can't be our cousin! Everyone said that Jon looked like our father! So you must be wrong on this one Bran!"

In reply, Bran had simply shaken his head and looked sadly at her.

Jon was her brother and there was nothing going to change Arya's mind on that, despite Bran's words.

Still, if Bran spoke the truth, Arya found it disturbing to contemplate that she now possessed the body of the woman who supposed to have given birth to her brother, Jon Snow.

A thought that Arya repeatedly tried to ignore.

Jon was her brother, and that was the end of it.

.

Riding a horse came instinctively to Arya the moment her father propped her on top of a pony. Thereafter, Arya had often ridden her horse to strengthen the muscles on her thighs and legs. And when she wasn't riding in the Wolfswood, Arya could oft be found climbing the trees and walking the high branches of the weirdwood in the Godswood. She did it to improve her balance and work on the muscles on her arms and shoulders.

Arya was careful not to fall, of course, though when she did, she would often land in a crouch like a cat. She also knew how to lessen the impact of her fall by tucking in and rolling towards the ground, which prevented her from breaking any of her bones. Truly, her training as a waterdancer, and in the House of Black and White, was never forgotten.

And in the same way as in her old life, Arya's habit of collecting scabs didn't change at all. In truth, Arya might have obtained a lot of injuries this time around after she had begun her training at the age of six.

As for swordfighting, Arya had stolen a practice sword from the armory to practice her waterdancing technique. Her brother-father Ned had caught her once in the Godswood, and he had looked so surprised to see her whirling about with a sword, hacking and slashing without any sign of hesitation, moving fluidly like she had been born with a blade in her hand.

"Who taught you that technique?" Ned had asked curiously when Arya had finally taken note of his presence.

"No one," had been Arya's reply.

"Did you made it by yourself then?"

"Yes," Arya had responded. Her face not giving away for the lie it was.

Arya knew Ned never really believed her, but she was grateful when he hadn't pressed her for more answers.

"Then don't let our Lord father see you what you are doing," Ned had advised, "And you better find a place to hide your practice sword, Lyanna. Master Cassel had been wondering where the sword had disappeared to when it had gone missing from the armory. He had to acquire another one just to use for Brandon's and my own training. And if our Lord father finds out –" He trailed off, giving Arya a pointed look, "He will surely be in wroth to see that you're doing swordplay instead of learning your needlework with mother."

"But I am learning needlework," Arya had said, grinning and waving her practice sword. " _This_   _is_  needlework."

"No, it's not." Ned had responded, a frown marring his features.

"Why not?" Arya challenged lightly. "What's the difference with a needle and sword when you can use both to stick them where it counts?"

Ned had stared at her for a moment before he laughed out loud.

"You are strange one, Lya." Her brother-father had commented, placing his hand on top of her head, like he usually did in Arya's first life. "But I still love you for it."

.

Arya knew that the three-eyed-raven would try to contact her in some way and she was right. By now – Brynden Rivers as Bran had identified the man - should have foreseen what Arya intend to do, which would involve killing a lot of important people.

Arya could not recall much of what she had been dreaming about before the three-eyed-raven appeared to her. She faintly remembered standing near the Broken Tower in the dream, looking up towards the burnt part of it when the black bird had flown in her sight, cawing loudly and flapping its wings. It flew above her head in circles, once or twice before it settled on top of a collapsed curtain wall in the First Keep.

For a while, the raven had fixed her with its three beady eyes before Arya heard the whisper of Bran's teacher in the wind. The voice was faint and it was accompanied by the sound of crackling leaves.

"I understand that you are not of this time," the voice began while the trees creaked and yawned around her. The wind gusting against her hair. "And from what I gathered, you were brought here for a reason..."

Arya lifted a lock of her hair from her eyes as the wind continued to blow against her.

"Yes," Arya agreed, scrutinizing the bird. The raven remained motionless with its beak firmly closed. "I am here because I am needed. I'm sure you have seen what is coming for all of us Beyond-the-Wall."

The wind died and blew again, nearly diminishing the words that followed, "Then, I have come to offer you my assistance…to guide you for whatever purpose you may require to help you save the realm."

It seemed there was no need for a formal introduction indeed, if the three-eyed-raven was openly extending his hand to aid her. Arya mused silently.

"You say that you will support my cause," She said, her eyes narrowing. "But I wonder...will you stop me if I don't intend to limit the amount of people that I plan to kill?"

Silence reigned as the raven regarded her at length. Arya could almost sense the three-eyed-raven weighing his answer.

Then, the trees sighed and swayed once more. Arya heard the hoarse voice of Bran's teacher in response.

"I have foreseen some of the things that you will do," the wind whispered into her ears, making wisps of Arya's hair dance around her. "But I understand that some sacrifices must be made for the realm to prosper and thrive in peace, and if it can be achieve through murder and deceit, then I do not care if you must do these things to prepare the Seven Kingdoms for the Great War to come..."

She wasn't surprised by the three-eyed-raven's answer. From what Bran had told her about him, Arya knew that this Brynden Rivers didn't mind dirtying his hands to get things done.

"Thank you," Arya said simply, feeling slightly relieved that she wasn't going to be alone in this endeavor, now that she had someone who would help her achieve the things that she needed to do, which she knew would not be easy at all.

However, this didn't mean that Arya would easily trust this three-eyed-raven. Her brother, Bran, may have trusted him completely, but Arya remained wary of him. She would have to see what else Bran's teacher wanted of her.

There was a momentary pause as Arya continued to assess the bird.

It had always bothered her about what happened to her brother Bran after he had send her to this time. Arya suspected that Bran must have done something else to save himself and everyone in that time, but she wasn't sure what it was.

Arya needed the answers and the three-eyed-raven may know something in regards to Bran.

"I have a brother," She began shortly, anxious all of a sudden. "His name is Brandon Stark. Not the same Brandon in this time, but my  _true brother_  from the future... Bran is a powerful warg and a greenseer. He was the three-eyed-raven after you died. He was the one who help me warg into this body…and I want to know what happened to him after he did it. Do you think he is still alive? Is it possible that he may have use his power to warg himself in the past, the same way he did with me?"

Arya waited worriedly for the three-eyed-raven to answer. Apart from that, Arya wanted to know about her other brother Jon, too. Bran had said Jon disappeared when the Night's King and his army had attacked the North. Bran had only said  _disappeared_ , not dead. If Jon had just disappeared, Bran might have found him again in time before the Night King's killed everyone. Arya desperately hope that was what truly occurred. For surely, Jon wouldn't die that easily. Something must have happened to him while he had fought in the front lines. Yet Arya dared to hope that Jon would be alive in some way, somehow...

"There is a strong possibility that he did."

"What?" Arya's attention went back to the raven. "I mean, I beg your pardon?"

"You brother, Bran…" the wind sighed, "-if he had both the power of a warg and a greenseer, then he could have used his power to give himself a second life in the past, maybe even a third, a fourth, or more. If your brother had chosen wisely to select a person who has the same ability as him, he could live a dozen lives without anyone knowing... That is the secret of having both the power of a greenseer and a warg. However, such power has a price and limit... for every human mind your brother controls and possess, his memories of his past lives will fade, right before he is driven into madness. He will become only a ghost riding upon the shoulders of the living. Leaping from one body to another. Dead but can never move on…If your brother had such power, then perhaps his name is not only a namesake at all, but your brother may be the same Brandon Stark who built the Wall."

 _Oh Bran_ , Arya thought, sadness filling her as she realized what Bran must have done.  _Did you go that far into the past to protect everyone? If so, then why do you need me to come to this time?_

* * *

**TO BE CONTINUED**

* * *

**Author's Note:**  Thank you everyone for reading and reviewing! Also, thank you also for the favorites and the follows! I hope this chapter wasn't slow for you. I wanted to try writing a story that is fast-paced. So in the next chapter, you will be seeing Arya meeting other people in the past. Please don't hesitate to tell me what you think!


	3. Chapter 3

 

"Lyanna, I want you to meet Domeric Bolton." Her brother, Brandon, introduced the boy standing next to him.

Arya regarded the boy coldly, despising him on sight with his pale-blue eyes, looking like two chips of frozen ice. This Domeric Bolton appeared more of a girl in his sable fur-lined cloak compared to Arya who was currently wearing Benjen's clothes - unkempt and dirty as it were from her practice - and had shorter hair than Domeric Bolton who had his ridiculously long black hair framing his face.

She did not cease glaring at those pale blue eyes – so much like his despicable father. Arya wondered what other traits Domeric Bolton must have acquired from the man who had orchestrated the Red Wedding alongside the Freys. Mayhap the boy must have gotten his father's penchant for cruelty and treachery as well, and his bastard brother Ramsay Bolton's predilection for raping and hunting down women.

 _Perhaps the apple does not fall from the tree._ Arya wondered.

Although Arya had to admit that she never heard of this Domeric Bolton in her previous life. He must have been long dead before the Bolton's betrayed her family, albeit it didn't mean that he was past from Arya's scrutiny, even despite his lack of involvement that led to the destruction of her house. Truth be told, it made Arya examine the boy more closely. She knew what to expect from Roose Bolton and Ramsay Bolton, yes, but this Domeric Bolton was another matter altogether.

Domeric Bolton was at least a year younger than her, that much Arya gathered, and probably enjoyed the comforts of being a Lord's son, if his lavish attire was not proof enough. But that was all Arya could guess from this point, she knew next to nothing about him, not even his goals and his motivation.

"He's Lord Bolton's son. The  _heir to Dreadfort_." Brandon emphasized. Her brother must have noticed Arya's prolonged silence and the fierce scowl on her face which she did not try to hide.

Arya could hear the warning in her brother's words. Brandon was silently telling her:  _'Do not say or do something to the Bolton heir that may incur the displeasure of one of our bannermen, and of our Lord father, Lyanna.'_

"It is an honor to meet you, Lady Lyanna." The pale boy said softly, bowing and glancing at her beneath his lashes.

Arya remained silent, her face unwelcoming.

As the boy slowly straightened up, Arya noted how Domeric Bolton's eyes had become wide and uncertain, as if he wasn't quite sure what he had done to offend her and to deserve such hostile response from Arya.

"His father is here to discuss matters with our Lord Father. About the harvest, I believe." Her brother informed at length, frowning at Arya when she did not say anything at all, not even to extend a cordial greeting to the Bolton heir.

Arya noticed Domeric Bolton began to fidget beneath her glower and she resisted the urge to smile at seeing him look uncomfortable.

"So Roose Bolton is here?" Arya asked after a while, turning to look at her brother.

Brandon's frown deepened when Arya had neglected to address the Lord of Dreadfort with a proper title.

"When did he arrive?" She asked, her mind working furiously.

 _The Leech Lord is in Winterfell._ Arya thought. _There has never been an opportune time for me to dispose of him but now when he is here. But how can I go about it? More importantly, how to do it without letting the blame fall upon my House_?

Arya curbed down the impulse to bite her lip, like she had oft did in her previous life while mauling over a complicated matter.

 _Certainly, it will not bode well for my family if a guest dies while under our roof._ Arya contemplated silently.  _And even if Roose Bolton so much as choke on his bread and salt and then dies as a result, every house in the North will surely accused House Stark for his death. After all, it was no secret that House Bolton and House Stark still harbored a strong enmity towards each other since the last Red King was defeated by the King of Winter during the Age of Heroes. It will not take long for the other great Houses to assume the worst of my family if Roose Bolton suddenly dies while under House Stark's protection._

As much as Arya wanted to kill the Lord of Dreadfort, however, it will be unwise to do so while the Leech Lord was in Winterfell.

 _Another time perhaps…but not now._ Arya decided, albeit grudgingly.  _I can kill him while he's out hunting in his own lands and make it look like it was an accident. For now, I will have to endure his presence here in Winterfell._

"Lord Bolton's party arrive not a moment ago." Brandon replied, "Ned and I was there to greet them, whilst you are here...doing something you ought not to do." Brandon glanced at the practice sword in Arya's hand.

Arya simply shrugged and swiftly placed her hands behind her back to hide the sword from the other boy's curious eyes. She didn't really care what Domeric Bolton particularly thought of her. The boy may disapprove of her practicing, no doubt.

"If I had been informed of their arrival ahead of time, I would have been there to greet them as well." Arya stated. "As it happens, I wasn't."

"Yes, well, it makes no matter now. Lord Bolton and his retinue are here, and our Lord father suggested that I bring his son to meet you," Brandon continued, "-and perhaps you and him can go play together while I go attend other matters elsewhere."

"No," Arya scowled. "I'm not going to spend time with him."

Brandon's brows furrowed at that. "Why ever not?"

"Because I don't like him," She remarked bluntly, glancing at the Bolton heir in time to see the flash of hurt on his pale face, and soon after, he appeared like he was about to cry. Well, seeing that the boy looked like he hadn't past his seventh nameday, it was no surprise to see him react thusly.

Yet Arya couldn't care less if she had hurt his feelings.

"Lyanna," Brandon pulled her aside - a safe distance away from the Bolton heir - to hiss at her. "You're speaking to the heir of Dreadfort! Our Lord father will not be pleased to hear that you have offended Lord Bolton's son! Our relationship with their House is tenuous as it is, with a longstanding enmity between our families still present, I advise that you mind your tongue dear sister, lest you will cause more problems between our families."

Arya clenched her jaw as she listened to her brother speak.

"Now go and apologize to him." Brandon pushed her gently towards the other boy, whose eyes were glistening with unshed tears.

"Whatever did I do to offend you, milady?" the boy asked after a moment, his voice tremulous.

Arya stared at him. Domeric Bolton looked utterly pathetic, but Arya's heart didn't soften at the sight of him reduced to tears.

"You didn't do anything." Arya replied coolly, "I just simply don't like the sight of you."

At her words, Domeric Bolton suddenly burst into tears while Brandon reprimanded her.

"Lyanna! Apologize now!"

"No," Arya bit out stubbornly, "And why should I when I'm only telling him the truth of what he did, or rather, didn't do? He asked me first and that was my answer. I don't like the sight of him."

"But you've only just met him!" Brandon exclaimed in exasperation.

"Yes, and his mere presence offends me. That is reason enough for me not to want to be near him."

After delivering those harsh words, Arya pivoted around and began walking away.

"Lyanna!" her brother called but Arya ignored him.

She wasn't going to become friends with the Leech Lord's son even if her Lord father or her brothers insisted upon it.

Domeric Bolton would never be a friend of hers.

Arya wouldn't become friends to the son of the man who betrayed her family.

.

Arya would have remained adamant about it if the three-eyed-raven hadn't convinced her to take a different approach in regards to the boy.

"He may become of use to you someday..." the three-eyed-raven had said to her as he visited her dreams that same night, "The boy is young yet, I agree, but one day he will become the Lord of Dreadfort. And as young and malleable as he is now, this will be an auspicious moment for you to acquire his friendship and ingratiate yourself in his life. If you do so, you may yet solidify a strong alliance between your Houses and have the power to influence him as you see fit in the future. The boy Domeric Bolton will serve better as your friend than a possible enemy, child."

"Fine, I will try to become... _friends_  with him." Arya had responded reluctantly, "but I'm never going to marry him." She scowled fiercely at the possibility. She knew that some ways to secure alliances between great houses was through marriage, and if that was Brynden Rivers was suggesting, Arya was determined not to marry anyone, be it a Lord of an influential House, a knight of great renown, or a Prince or King of some kingdom.

Arya wasn't going to marry at all no matter what everyone said.

Like her direwolf Nymeria, she would be free to lead her own pack, go on amazing adventures, and kill those who stood on her way if she wished it. Arya would never allow herself to be chained to the role of a wife and lady to some great castle, or worst yet, suffer the political intrigues of the court.

If she would play the game of thrones, Arya would rather be killing people in the shadows than play the simpering lady. Arya was not her sister, that was for certain, and people should understand that.

Before she had left her time, Arya knew Sansa had become rather adept at running the castle and handling the political games that the Ladies and Lords were keen on playing. Arya may have learned some things from her sister in regards to that, but she found it rather tiresome and a waste of her time. She would rather kill her enemies first than manipulate them to do the things she wanted them to do, which she knew oft times didn't go according to plan.

Petyr Baelish, Cersei Lannister and Sansa may have derived some kind of enjoyment in watching the players become the mere pawns to their games, but Arya held no love for such things and had no patience to see things done so slowly.

Killing people was the better option than manipulating them. That was what Arya strongly believed. A dead enemy was better than a live one and Arya would eliminate each and every one of them before they were given the chance to play the game of thrones.

However, in this instance, perhaps the three-eyed-raven was right. Domeric Bolton would be an easy person to manipulate.

Arya would prefer to have the heir of Dreadfort stand by her side than see him on the opposite end of her sword.

.

Arya got the chance to speak to Domeric Bolton the next morn. This time it was Benjamin who brought the Bolton heir to Arya. The two had gotten well together, she soon discovered. Considering that Benjen and Domeric were of the same age, her little brother seemed to like the pale-eyed boy well enough.

Arya was in the stables and preparing to ride her horse out the Wolfswood when Benjen came to her with Domeric Bolton following closely behind.

"Lyanna! Can we ride with you to the wolfswood?" Benjen said by way of greeting her. "Dom and I want to have a race with you! I told him you're the best rider in all the North!"

Arya wanted to roll her eyes at her little brother. Trust Benjen to exaggerate things when it came to her. She also couldn't help but notice how Benjen called the other boy 'Dom'.

 _Probably a short name for Domeric_. Arya mused.

"Certainly, we can Benjen, but does your new friend have a horse of his own?" Arya asked, turning her attention to the other boy who was lingering farther back. His pale-blue eyes showed his nervousness as he locked gazes with her.

The two of them hadn't spoken to each other since their first encounter in the God's Woods. Even during meal times, Brandon had made it a point to seat Arya far away from the other boy and had asked Benjen to entertain the Bolton heir while he was still their guest.

"I have, my lady." The boy murmured, "I have ridden my own horse when we arrived here."

"Well, if you have one, then I don't see why you can't join me for a ride in the Wolfswood." Arya replied, trying to force a smile on her face and appear to be friendly, but she ended up grimacing instead.

For his part, Domeric Bolton was too observant for a boy his age. He must have noted her attempts at being cordial to him because Arya saw the boy smile shyly at her.

Arya wanted to frown at him but stopped herself in time. Instead, she addressed her brother before she could say something awful to the pale-eyed boy.

"Benjen, go on ahead and ask Wylis to saddle up your ponies for you." Arya suggested.

"Alright, Lyanna." Benjen nodded his head, almost jumping in excitement.

"Wylis!" Benjen called the giant of a boy who had just began feeding the garrons and coursers at the back stalls of the stables.

The boy of no more than one-and-ten looked up from his task and said, "Yes, milord?"

"Can you saddle up our ponies for Domeric and I? We're going with Lyanna to the Wolfswood!" Benjen said.

"Aye, milord. Give me a moment and I'll get your saddles for you." Wylis replied, or as what Arya had known him by, Hodor.

Arya watched him go. In this time, Hodor still had his mind intact and Arya hoped that it would remain that way for many years to come. For if Wylis lose his mind sometime soon, it would be an ill-omen for Arya.

It could only mean that the future hadn't change at all if that happened.

"I'll be waiting for you both in the courtyard." Arya informed Benjen and Domeric after a moment.

"We'll meet you there shortly." Benjen said, smiling.

Arya nodded her head and tagged the reins of horse to lead her mount outside the stables while all the time feeling Domeric Bolton's gaze on her back.

Arya was warming up her horse and allowing her pony to canter in circles around the courtyard when Benjen and Domeric appeared leading their ponies by the reins. When she saw them, Arya immediately tilted her head towards the direction of the Hunter's Gate, where it would open directly unto the Wolfswood.

"Let's go," she said to them and the boys hastily followed after her.

Two castle guards caught up to them as they went out the Hunter's Gate. Arya frowned when she noticed them trailing behind. She had known that her Lord father had ordered the guards to keep on a look out for Arya if she plan to ride by herself, and so far, the guards had always followed her Lord father's orders. Arya simply ignored them most of the time while she was out riding in the Wolfswood.

Soon enough, Arya and her riding party was out in the open fields and headed straight to their destination.

"Race you both to the Wolfswood!"

Arya heard Benjen shout the challenge.

"The last one will have to eat mudpie for dinner!" He said while trying to ride past Arya.

However, Arya prodded her pony into a full gallop before Benjen caught up to her.

"I don't think so, Benjen!" She said, grinning as she took off and raced ahead of him. Arya let out a laugh of exhilaration as she rode swiftly. "The one who is eating mudpie tonight will be you, brother of mine!"

"Lya!" Benjen called after her but Arya simply chuckled.

Arya was just enjoying the wind blowing through her hair when she heard the sounds of horse's hooves galloping fast on her right. Arya glanced to the side and she was surprise to see Domeric Bolton gaining on her. Their eyes met briefly and Arya saw the silent challenge there in those pale-blue eyes.

Pursing her lips tight, Arya leaned forward and pressed her knees on her pony's sides to prompt her horse to go faster. The other boy did the same with his mount.

Now, the Bolton heir and her were almost neck and neck.

 _He rides as well as I, if not more so..._  Arya soon realized as she watched the boy's raven black hair fluttered in the wind when he finally rode past her. Once he did, Arya was left fuming.

 _I'm not going to lose to some Leech Lord's son._ Arya thought, urging her horse to follow after the other boy with determination.

Behind her, she listened to Benjen complained after them.

"Lya, Dom, don't leave me behind!"

"I thought this was supposed to be a race, Benjen!" Arya responded. "So you better catch up, little brother!"

"But Lyanna!" Benjen whined out loud.

Arya wanted to roll her eyes but instead called after the Bolton heir with the hopes of distracting him.

"Domeric!"

At the sound of his name, the pale-eyed boy glanced back at her.

"You've got something in your mouth!" Arya lied, and to her great delight, the Bolton heir gradually slowed down.

"What is it, Lady Lyanna?" the boy asked as he stopped his horse. "What's in my mouth?"

Arya snickered to herself as she saw him wiped a hand over his mouth. She was rapidly approaching him when she gave her answer, "You have mud in your mouth, Bolton! Because you and my little brother will be eating mudpies tonight!"

The Bolton heir looked completely dumbfounded as Arya swept past him.

"See you in the Wolfswood, idiot!" Arya called out, laughing.

True to her words. Arya secured her victory by reaching the wolfswood well ahead of the other two. Nonetheless, Domeric Bolton still came second and Benjen arrived last. Although that wasn't the last of their excitement for the day. As soon as they arrived in the Wolfswood, Arya was there to greet them by throwing mud on their faces.

Thereafter, a mud fight ensued. The castle guards tried to stop them, but the two men immediately gave up when they ended getting splattered by mud as well. By the end of the fight, all of them had mud caking their clothes, hair and skin. Yet despite their filthy state, Arya and the other two boys decided to continue with their adventure, albeit the three didn't go riding deeply into the wolfswood after the castle guards warned them about wild wolves roaming the area.

So Arya showed the two boys into familiar trails that she oft explored before. At this point, Arya had forced herself to talk to Domeric Bolton every now and then whilst the boy seemed rather eager to become her friend.

Arya learned that the Leech Lord's son loved to read histories as well as play the harp, which was such a surprise to her. She thought the other boy was more interested in sharpening knives and skinning dead animals as his hobby, but her assumptions proved wrong. Judging from the way the boy talked enthusiastically about his passion for reading and music, it seemed to Arya that Domeric Bolton had no cruel bone in his body. Other than that, Arya also found out that the boy loved horses and riding too. The same as her. From there, Arya and Domeric's conversation turned to horses before changing to that of sword fighting, where Arya discovered that Domeric had just began his training two moons ago.

It seemed the day was going well for the both of them, Arya silently admitted, and it would have gone far better if Domeric Bolton hadn't open his mouth and unknowingly insulted her.

The small riding party were just watering their horses on their way back to Winterfell when it happened.

"My Lord father used to tell me that I hold great promise to become the most accomplish knight in the tourney list," Domeric informed her while they stood watching their ponies drink water from the nearby stream.

There was neither arrogance nor did Domeric Bolton sounded boastful with his words. The boy had simply said it in a matter-of-fact way that Arya didn't find fault in his statement or his demeanor. However, not until she heard what he said next did Arya finally react.

"My Lord father said that I ride like the wind. But now that I've seen you race…I believe I can never ride like you, my lady, for you are nearly half a horse yourself."

Arya stiffened at his words, suddenly remembering the insults thrown at her in her previous life.

 _'Arya Horseface_!' Jeyne Poole had oft called her and neighed every time she saw Arya. Theon Greyjoy and some others had called her that before as well. But to hear a similar insult from Domeric Bolton of all people was both shocking and infuriating to her.

Arya Stark was completely and utterly pissed.

"What did you just say?" Arya said in a soft, but dangerous tone while she inwardly seethed,  _'Is he calling me Lyanna Horseface now?'_

"Did you just tell me that I'm like a horse?" She asked, noting the hint of wariness in the boy's pale-blue eyes when he saw her furious face.

"I didn't mean it as an insult, Lady Lyanna." Domeric Bolton began carefully in a small, quavering voice after he realized his mistake. "When I said that you are like a half a horse yourself, what I truly meant was that I can never outrace you, my lady."

If the other boy was trying to diffuse her anger with his explanation, it didn't work so well as he hoped because Arya still exploded in rage.

"Are you stupid or what, Bolton?! Do you think it's a compliment to compare someone to a horse?!" She burst out while she shoved the boy away.

She watched as Domeric Bolton stumbled back before falling into the stream. The boy cried out as he fell on his butt and into the water.

"Dom!"

Arya heard Benjen's yell of concern. She watched as Benjen went after the fallen Bolton heir and tried to help him out of the water.

"Do I look like a horse to you, Bolton?!" Arya glared at the fallen boy.

Domeric Bolton was nearly in tears when he responded, "No - no, my lady. You don't look like a horse."

"Then don't compare me to a horse again or I'll punch you in the face the next time you do so!" Arya threatened.

"Ye - yes, my lady!" The boy stuttered, trembling as he gradually stood up with the help of Benjen and one of the castle guards. "I'm so sorry if I insulted you, Lady Lyanna! It was never my intention at all! I swear it on my honor as a Bolton!"

"Honor? You Boltons don't know anything about honor!" Arya spat in contempt. "You go tell that to your scheming and treacherous father, you idiot!"

She watched as fat tears slid down the boy's cheeks but Arya remained unmoved by them. In truth, the sight of his tears only infuriated her all the more.

"Stop crying, stupid!" Arya bit out angrily.

In response, Domeric Bolton began crying openly while Benjen tried to defend his friend, "Stop being mean to Domeric, Lyanna! He didn't intend to insult you! You heard him! He tried to apologize to you countless of times!"

"I did hear him and it seemed your friend needs his wits honed! Only a fool would think that comparing someone to a horse is considered as a compliment!" Arya fired back at her brother. "Your friend might as well take up a new word of his own. Perhaps  _'My wits aren't sharp as my blade,_ ' would be fitting for a Bolton like him! Because he certainly proved himself to be a witless wonder!"

"You are truly cruel, Lyanna! I don't know what has gotten into you!" Benjen yelled. "Why are you acting like this towards Dom! He just wants to be your friend!"

"Well, if he wants to be my friend, then he has a poor way of showing it!" Arya retorted. "I just don't like to be compared to a horse! I hate it when someone does that!"

"Dom doesn't know that! So you have to forgive him because he doesn't know!"

Arya fell silent as she met her brother's tearful gaze.

"My lady, I'm so sorry…" Domeric Bolton broke in while wiping tears from his eyes. "Please forgive me."

Still simmering with fury, Arya dismissed the boy's attempt at reconciliation and hurriedly walked towards her horse.

"Where are you going, Lyanna?"

She heard Benjen asked but Arya didn't deign him a response. Instead she climbed on top of her pony and then rode back to Winterfell on her own.

This would be the second time that Arya left the Bolton heir crying behind her. Though she didn't have any regret for reacting like that towards him.

 _He deserved to be treated that way._  Arya told herself later on.  _His Lord father has treated my family worse than I did him._

.

Once more, the three-eyed-raven came to her in a dream that night with the same advice as before.

"I don't want to be friends him." Arya said icily after Bryden River was done lecturing her. "He insulted me, and whether it was intentional or not, I don't care."

"He meant it as a compliment, child…You control your horse so well that it seemed that your mount is almost an extension of yourself." The voice in the wind said calmly. "The boy's statement is no different from the instance when your mother called you and your eldest brother 'a pair of centaurs'."

"That was not the same." Arya said while a shadow of uncertainty fleeted in her steel-grey eyes.

The wind seemed to sigh at Arya's stubborn answer.

"I quite understand that you have a reason to despise the heir to Dreadfort, but I can assure you that he is not the same as his father or his bastard brother, Ramsay Bolton." The three-eyed-raven informed her. "I see great, and many things this boy could accomplish if you would only allow him the chance to become your friend. As I have told you before, Domeric Bolton could become a valuable ally to you, who would give you his unfaltering loyalty and support if you needed it…Thus, you mustn't let your anger blind you, dear child, and look unto this with cold clarity…"

The wind stilled for a moment. Then, it began to gust again as the three-eyed-raven spoke.

"Once in the Age of Heroes, the Red Kings of House Bolton love to skin their enemies alive. Do you know why they love to remove the skin of their foes?"

"No," Arya replied.

"Because the Red Kings abhor skinchangers or wargs…" the three-eyed-raven said. " _A naked man has few secrets, a flayed man, none_ , as the Red Kings would oft like to say. And you dear child, you are a powerful warg…Most would fear you for your ability, but there will be a few who will not…and one of them, will be the heir to Dreadfort. Trust me on this one, child. The wise thing for you to do at this point is to band together with Domeric Bolton."

"If you're planning to marry me off to him in the future, then your plan is set to fail because I don't intend to marry him or anyone for that matter." Arya stated adamantly.

"You needn't worry about that dark heart for I'm not going to ask that you marry him when you two become of age, all I ask is for you to grow close to him, close enough that you may be able to manipulate him to your own ends someday, as you will do to other people whom you will encounter soon... If you heed my advice Arya Stark, you will not only gain a strong ally, but a dear friend as well in Domeric Bolton, a friend who will willingly die for you and accept you for who you are, whether you are a warg or as  _no one_. As hard as it may be for you to believe this, but that is what I can see so far in the future concerning him."

.

The next morn, Arya found herself in the Godswood practicing her water dancing technique.

It was there when Domeric Bolton decided to seek her out. Arya was surprised to see him there, most certainly the sight of the broken branch in his hand and the glint of resolve in his pale-blue eyes.

"What are you doing here?" was the first thing that came out of Arya's mouth.

"Benjen told me that I could find you here, my lady." The boy replied, threading carefully around her as if he was facing a wild she-wolf ready to attack him, which was not far from the truth. "He told me that you like to practice here…and, well…" the boy trailed off, fidgeting nervously. "I believe it's better to practice if you have someone to fight with…so I'm offering to become your partner, if you want to…that is…"

Arya scrutinized the boy with narrowed eyes. Domeric Bolton was right. It was no fun at all if Arya practice her swordplay by herself. She and Benjen had practice together using wooden branches before but her brother had never been good at it and often times yielded to her easily.

 _Perhaps I should let him._  Arya thought as she recalled the three-eyed-raven's words last night.

**_If you heed my advice Arya Stark, you will not only gain a strong ally, but a dear friend as well in Domeric Bolton, a friend who would willingly die for you and accept you for who you are._ **

"Fine, you can partner with me." Arya said, finally deciding to follow the three-eyed-raven's advice.

"Truly?" Domeric asked, looking downright overjoyed at her acceptance.

"Yes, truly." Arya replied, wanting to roll her eyes at him. "But I hope you will give me quite a challenge."

"I've only just began my training two moons ago. So I can't promise you that, my lady." Domeric said uneasily, his gaze watching her closely for some sign of anger.

Arya's face, however, remained blank.

"I see…and call me Lyanna." Arya corrected. "I don't like being called a  _lady_. It's annoying."

"Alright, Lya – Lyanna." Domeric stammered, obviously too anxious to please her.

"No, never mind. Don't call me Lyanna." Arya said, changing her mind. "I prefer that you call me Arya."

"Arya?" the other boy wondered out loud. "Why do you want me to call you Arya?"

"Because Lyanna sounds like the name of some naive girl who ran away with some stupid prince." Arya replied, flashing him a toothy grin. "While the name Arya on the other hand, sounds like the name of some heartless assassin who plans to kill everyone on her list. Don't you agree Bolton?"

"Ye – yes..." The boy agreed, appearing baffled at her words. "If you wish it, I'll call you Arya from now on."

"Good." Arya said, smiling. "But only if we are alone."

"Alright…I'll do that." Domeric Bolton replied, smiling as well.

"Are you ready then?" Arya asked, slashing her practice sword in the air before she took up the fighting stance of a water dancer.

With one hand behind her back and her right foot bent slightly forward, Arya held her practice sword in front of her in an on guard position.

"I've never seen that stance before," came Domeric Bolton's comment. "What kind of stance is that?"

"This is the stance of a water dancer," was Arya's only response.

"Water dancer? Is that some type of technique your learned somewhere?" Domeric asked.

"Mayhap… _No one_  really taught me." Arya shrugged. "You needn't worry though. You'll become familiar with it if you want to continue practicing with me for the next days while you are here."

"Really?" The other boy looked at her in excitement. "Do you truly want to practice with me that long?"

Arya simply nodded her head, getting impatient. "So shall we begin?"

"Certainly," came Domeric's response.

Then, the two of them lunged forward. Arya with her practice sword and Domeric with his broken branch. They dueled together. Arya was relentless while Domeric kept on parrying her attacks. Arya lunged and slashed more oft than not. She feinted and disengaged when needed, and constantly hit Domeric's unguarded side. She didn't know how many times she had supposedly killed the other boy. Yet the Bolton heir was just as tenacious as she was. Never admitting defeat.

They continued to dance across the Godswood. She could see Domeric Bolton getting tired. Domeric's footwork became more of a stumble and his posture was bent and strained. He repeatedly failed to defend himself in time from Arya's compound attack.

Arya riposted after Domeric's parry. Then, she leapt up onto a rock and cut at the other boy. She slashed Domeric across his thigh, so hard that his leg went out from under him and he fell into the pool and began to splash and shout.

"You be quite, stupid," Arya said, tossing her practice sword aside. "It's just water. Do you want someone to hear you and run to tell our fathers?" she knelt and pulled Domeric from the pool, unlike she had done yesterday where she had allowed Benjen to pull him out from the stream.

This time Arya was not compelled to ignore him. In truth, she was half-concern for the other boy.

"I think we are done for today." She said to Domeric as she helped him stand up. "Perhaps we can do this on the morrow once more."

"Benjen will probably want to join along." Domeric replied, gazing up at her.

"Yes," Arya said. "Why didn't he come with you today?"

"Because he was tired from yesterday so he told me he would like to sleep until noon today."

"Lazy Benjen." Arya shook her head. "Anyway, I'm really hungry right now because I didn't break my fast this morn. So why don't we grab some food from the kitchens? I believe Old Nan made lemon cakes this morning. "

"Of course, but I would have to change my clothes first." Domeric said, pointing out to his soaked attire. "But I'll meet you in the kitchens shortly afterward."

"Do you even know where the kitchen is?" Arya said, raising a brow.

"Yes, Benjen and I often go there to get some treats after meal times." The boy admitted timidly.

Arya laughed. "Well, if you know where it is, then I'll wait for you there. But don't take too long to change your clothes or there won't be any lemon cakes for you by the time you arrive."

"I don't mind if you eat all of it, Arya." Domeric said. "So long as you won't blame for getting a tooth ache afterward."

In response, Arya playfully punched Domeric Bolton in the shoulder. "I'm only jesting stupid. Of course, I'm going to leave some lemon cakes for you."

.

And that was how Arya and Domeric Bolton became friends. If Arya could not be found riding in the Wolfswood, Arya was always seen hanging around with her little brother and the Bolton heir in the First Keep playing 'Come-into-my-castle' and 'Lord of the Crossing' while in the Godswood, or as the people assumed. Arya still continued practicing her water dancing technique together with her brother and Domeric Bolton. She had taught some of the technique to both of them but the boys found it rather difficult to grasp.

By the time the Boltons left Winterfell a week after, Arya had become close to the heir of Dreadfort. In fact, the day before the boy left, Arya had spoken to him in the Godswood.

"Domeric, swear to me that when you become the Lord of Dreadfort, you will never betray my family." Arya had made him promise in front of the Old Gods.

"I swear it, Arya," was Domeric's answer. "I swear it to the Old Gods and the New. I will never ever betray House Stark."

"Thank you, Domeric…From now onwards, I call you my true friend." Arya said. "And I hope you won't forget about my eight nameday, which would be five moons from now. I expect a grand gift from you, Bolton."

Domeric Bolton laughed and said to her, "Of course, I won't forget it Arya. I've already have something in mind for your eight nameday."

Indeed, Arya's new friend made good with his promise. Domeric Bolton came to her eight nameday and gifted her with a fine castle-forged dagger, which would become useful to her once someday.

* * *

**Domiric Bolton and Lyanna Stark**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Thank you for reading! Your reviews fuels my passion for writing so please don't hesitate to tell me what you think! If you want to see the aesthetics, story trailer and photoshopped edits that I made for the story please check out my twitter, facebook pinterest, youtube or tumblr account. But you can always contact me on twitter, facebook or tumblr so please don't be a stranger and let us be friends!


	4. Chapter 4

* * *

The week after her eight nameday. The three-eyed-raven told her that it was time for Arya to leave her home.

"It's time for you to spread your wings and fly, child." He had told her. "However, before you go to Braavos and join the order of the Faceless Men, I believe there is something you need to learn first… In the vaults beneath the Citadel, there are certain books that you must need steal…a blood-soaked tome sometimes called  _Blood and Fire_  or sometimes  _The Death of Dragons_ …and another book, an important corpus about dragons, which was written by Septon Barth and had eluded the Blessed Baelor. The book is called the _Dragons, Wyrms, and Wyverns: Their Unnatural History'."_

"Why do I need to steal these books?" She asked, frowning.

"Because, dear child, it is for you to understand the history and the different kinds of dragons that exists in this world…one kind of dragon is a beast as most have known it to be, and the other kind…dragons who wore the skin of man."

.

It took nearly another week for Arya to prepare for her journey going to Old Town. She had taken some of Benjen's clothes, gathered the money she had saved and then took some from Brandon's stash, where Arya intend to place the coins into the hidden pockets she had sewn in her traveling clothes. Other than that, she stole some supplies from Maester Walys such as healing salves, clean dressings and some vials of poisons. She also rummaged through the kitchens for some food that would last long during her journey down South. Despite how well-prepared she was, Bloodraven had promised to do more for her. The three-eyed-raven promised to guide her throughout her travel to the Citadel.

Bloodraven had said that he would use ravens to scout for Arya and warn her of possible threats down the road, if there were any, and then help her hunt for food when needed. A convenient thing for Arya to consider, but she knew that she should not depend on him. Having to do so would simply make her rely on the three-eyed-raven too much and would give him cause to ask more from her, which she did not want to. She would scout ahead, deal with the possible thieves on the road, and hunt her food on her own. Nonetheless, this doesn't necessarily mean that she would not take advantage of the Bloodraven's suggestion when the need arise.

Two weeks after her eight nameday, she was ready to leave. Early in the day, Arya had gone out riding in the Wolfswood, where two castle guards had followed her. They had been watering the horses in a stream when she had let out one of the guard's horse loose with the intention of using the fine courser by the time she leave Winterfell. The castle guard had failed to get back his horse from the Wolfswood like the three-eyed-raven had forseen and now Arya must find that horse and use it for her travel. It was the easiest way than taking one horse from the stables and riding it through the gates, where everyone would inevitably see her leaving.

Then, that very night Arya set her entire plan in motion. When she was certain that everyone was most likely asleep, Arya hastily cut off her hair close to her skull, don on Benjen's clothes and fur-lined cloak, and then hid Domeric's dagger on her left boot and Brandon's hunting knife on her right.

The three-eyed-raven had also told her to leave a letter to her family before she would leave Winterfell, lest they would think that someone had kidnapped her. Arya did and left the letter on her bed.

It was the hour of the wolf when Arya snuck down her room. As quite as a shadowcat, she stuck to the shadows and moved with nigh a sound like she had been trained in the House of Black and White. She followed the three-eyed-raven's advice to go out the servant's entrance way and towards the First Keep, where she had discovered a secret passage in an old map of Winterfell that she had taken from the Maester's Tower. The passage was close to the Hunter's Gate, which would lead straight to the Wolfswood.

A half crescent moon hanged high in the skies, as sharp as a scythe while the clouds drifted slowly above her, and most often than not, the clouds concealed the moon and its soft glow.

It was an ideal night to run away.

With her pack secured behind her back, Arya was out and running through the open fields outside the Hunter's Gate. She was still sprinting through the fields when she heard the loud caws of ravens above her. When she looked up, she saw five of them sweeping over her. Arya knew that Bloodraven must have warg into one of them so she followed after the birds.

Arya had assumed that she would have to go further into the Wolfswood to get the horse. Thus, it was such a relief to her when she saw the horse grazing on the grass in the open field. She approached the horse carefully while the ravens circled and cawed over head, silently telling Arya to take the horse and go.

She did.

The horse was not a skittish mount, she knew, and so when Arya drew near to it with food in hand, the horse was prepared for her. After giving the horse some horse feed, Arya slowly climbed on top of the saddle and led the horse away from her home.

Arya didn't look back. She kept her heart tightly shut to any regrets that would besiege her the moment she left Winterfell. She understood that leaving her home would mean saving everyone on it. Therefore, she didn't let herself feel anything at all as she rode away. She knew that those kind of emotions would only hinder her from following through her plans if she allowed those emotions to overwhelm her.

She planned to reach the Neck in a matter of two days, which meant no sleep for her. However, she had no reason to worry about getting lost, not when she saw the ravens flying ahead of her. Arya was grateful to have a guide who had the foresight to see the dangers that she would encounter, but she knew that she should never get used to it, lest her sharp instinct to detect the threats around her would become blunted.

.

Arya didn't sleep, not even a blink. She had eaten sparingly from the food that she had brought and she was becoming saddle-sore. Yet Arya endured even when she had traveled with little rest.

She knew by then that she was somewhere in the Neck when she encountered trees that were half-drowned and covered in fungus, and beneath the water, the quicksand that would drown anyone who attempted to walk the waters. The only way out of the North was passing through the kingsroad in the Neck; a narrow causeway, which was the only safe route to travel through the swamps.

Arya had no choice but to travel down the kingsroad or she would drown in the swamps if she threaded into a different route; routes like the narrow trails between the bogs and wet roads through the reeds that only boats could follow.

Within a day, Arya could see the formidable ruins of Moat Cailin ahead of her and knew that she was almost close to leaving the North. However, she was a bit anxious of being discovered. Still, she led her horse onwards.

As her horse neared Moat Cailin, she could sense unseen eyes falling upon her and instantly knew that she was being watched by the so-called crannogmen of the Neck. She hoped the crannogman truly had no way of receiving ravens in their floating castles or they would soon discover who Arya was as she passed the half-sunk fortress. They would surely question her, a young child traveling by herself, even when she had disguised herself as a boy.

Despite her mounting trepidation, Arya successfully past Moat Cailin that had served as an effective natural choke point to protect the North from any southron invasions. She let out a sigh of relief as no one stopped her while she led her horse further past the ancient stronghold.

By the time she reached Greywater Watch, she was beyond exhausted. She was almost falling asleep on top of her horse after traveling for nearly three days without ravens had lasted longer than Arya did even when the birds have constantly kept a careful look out ahead and behind her.

She nearly fell of horse as she nodded off, but a loud caw from the ravens saved her from completely slipping off her courser. Arya glanced at the ravens and saw them switch direction. Too tired to protest, she followed after the birds in half-curiosity. The birds led her towards the swampy area where she soon discovered the reason for the birds' deviation.

Arya tensed as she saw a boy rowing a decrepit boat between the bogs. A boy who was no older than her with dark hair and moss green eyes and wearing muddy brown clothes. The boy immediately caught sight of her and greeted her with a wide smile.

"Good morning, traveler." the boy called, rowing his boat towards her.

"Good morning," She replied, watching the boy warily. She should leave before the boy could get a better look at her. For certain, she would be recognized with her long face and the grey eyes of a Stark. By now, her family must have sent ravens to the entire North in their desperate attempt to search for her and she didn't trust anyone who would be able to identify her.

"Are you lost?" the boy asked.

"No," came her brisk response, tagging her horse's reins with the intention of leaving there at once, but the ravens cawed once more, circling above her and then at the boy.

The boy noticed the ravens flying over him and he frowned.

"Are these your ravens?"

"They're not mine," She said, knowing that the three-eyed-raven wasn't own by anyone, especially not her, and even the Bloodraven's allegiance to her was questionable at best.

The boy's boat finally reached her and she decided to see who this strange boy was. There must be a reason the three-eyed-raven seemed to favor this meeting.

"Oh, I thought they were yours. They seemed to be following you around." The boy commented as he climbed out of his boat and walked towards her.

In response, Arya simply shrugged and lied, "The ravens go wherever they want to go. Though it seems that they have taken to following me and asking me for more corn."

"Perhaps the ravens are sent by the Old Gods to guide you in your journey." The boy suggested.

She didn't disagree and said instead "Perhaps..."

There was a moment of silence as the two regarded each other.

"My name is Howland Reed of Greywater Watch," the boy introduced himself after a moment of deliberation. "And you are?"

"Aryan," was her answer, scrutinizing the boy closely.

In this time, her name was Lyanna Stark, and the only one who called her Arya was Domeric Bolton, even her little brother Benjen did not know that. So she didn't see why she can't use her true name - or close to it - in this life.

Moreover, she was surprised to meet Howland Reed so early in this time. From what she learned from her brother Bran, Howland Reed had met Lyanna Stark during the Tourney at Harrenhall. However, considering that she was truly leaving her home and would thus be making great changes in the past, this must be the result of her interference. Mayhap the Old Gods was simply accelerating the process of Arya meeting Howland Reed, and mayhap even some other people too.

"It's nice to meet you, Aryan." Howland replied.

Arya's answer, however, was one of silence.

"I was about to settle to my humble abode and break my fast when I saw you." The boy said, moving to the boat to take out his three-pronged frog spear and a net full of fishes and –

 _Are those frogs?_  Arya thought in interest, watching the little green things wriggle in the net alongside the fishes.

"Will you want to share a meal with me?" the boy offered.

She hesitated. She knew that Howland Reed had been a loyal bannermen to House Stark in her first life. He had been there when her Lord father had gone to the Red Mountains of Dorne to get Lyanna Stark. Thus, Arya knew she could trust the boy. And if this was what the three-eyed-raven wanted her to do, then she didn't see the reason of declining the boy's offer.

"I haven't eaten a frog before," she informed him, "But I am incline to try, only if it's properly cooked."

Howland Reed just smiled and said, "Frog meat taste like chicken, but if you add a bit of spice and lemon on it, the meat would taste delicious. But I don't have spice and lemon with me, so we'll have to contend with what we have."

"It doesn't matter." she replied, "I'm rather curious in how the frog meat will taste like, so I will eat it, however you prefer to prepare it."

Howland nodded his head.

"If you will follow me, Aryan." Howland said, "I'll show you the little house that I built out of reeds. It's where I usually stay when I'm not with my family."

"You have a house of your own? But aren't you too young?" Arya said as she climbed off her horse to walked beside the boy. "And won't your family be concern if you are by yourself?"

"No, in Greywater Watch. We crannogmen mature faster than any Northern or Southron children." Howland Reed responded, "We have been taught to survive on our own since the day we walk. We've been trained to start our fire, hunt our food, make our own weapons and our own protective armor, and even concoct our own poison to coat our arrowheads and blades…  _Heart, Hearth and Harvest_  is the word of my House. My father and mother taught me everything they know to help me survive in the Neck. And they had no reason to worry about me, not when many of the crannogmen are scattered about the Neck to watch out for those who threatens the North. I often encounter others from Greywater Watch when I'm moving through the bogs. Them and their floating houses."

Arya wasn't really surprise to hear this. Bran had told her about Meera and Jojen Reed, who had been tasked by Howland Reed to help Bran go beyond the Wall. Bran had said that he wouldn't have survive on his own without Meera's and Jojen's help; Meera, with her hunting skills, and Jojen with his words of wisdom and his gift of foresight.

She didn't say anything after that, but followed after the boy as he led her through the reeds.

.

"I hope this doesn't sound so intrusive, but may I know the reason you are traveling on your own?" Howland Reed asked later on as they sat before the spitfire inside his little house built out of reeds.

Arya's interest on the boy had grown exponentially when he showed her his collection of poisons and the weapons he had crafted by his own hand.

Howland Reed was every bit as resourceful and Arya had every intention to take some of his resources with her when she would leave his place.

"I'm not really alone. The Gods are with me. You said as much." She said in jest, taking a chunk out of her frog and chewing while juices leaked out from the corners of her mouth. "And I'm traveling because I got separated from my brothers. So I'm out looking for them now."

The lie came so easily that Arya didn't even blink as she said it.

"How did you get separated from them?"

"One of my brother gave me away to be adopted to some rich merchant in White Harbor." She replied, "And he left me there with the hopes of giving me a far better future."

"And your other brother?"

 _Jon_ , Arya thought sadly.

"My other brother is out there somewhere." She said, pausing to stare at the fire before her. "I don't know what happened to him, but I know he would want the same for me, for me to live a better life than we had before."

"I'm sorry for asking, Aryan." Howland said, noting the melancholy in her grey eyes. "Now, I've made you sad."

"No, I'm alright. You needn't worry." She responded, giving him a strained smile. "Anyway, since you ask a question. I have one of my own..."

"Yes?"

"Are you open to selling some of your things to me?" She asked. "Because I'm sorely in need of something to defend myself if I travel on my own."

"You won't need to buy anything from me. Just ask and I will give you what you need." The boy said, smiling at her.

"Are you certain?" She said in surprise. "But we barely know each other."

"I've shared my hearth and meal with you, so I consider you as a friend Aryan." The boy replied, "Ask and it will be given to you."

"You are quite something, aren't you?" She murmured. "I never known anyone to be so magnanimous to a passing stranger."

"You are no longer a stranger to me, Aryan." The boy responded, blushing. "Like I said, I consider you a friend."

"If you say so, Howland." Arya said in amusement. "Since you insist upon it, then I can't very well decline your generosity."

.

In the end, Arya asked for most of Howland's stash of poisons. He explained to her the different reactions the poisons were to the human body. Apart from those, she had also wanted the odd-looking weapon which Howland introduced as a blowpipe. The blowpipe was simple weapon consisting of a narrow, long tube for firing light projectiles or darts. The weapon was used by inserting the projectile, such as seeds or darts, inside the pipe and using the force of one's breath to give the projectile momentum. It was Howland who said that it was an effective weapon to fire at a human target while hiding from afar. One of the most well-known guerilla tactic used by the crannogmen that withstood for thousands of years. Howland Reed had also suggested that Arya could dip the darts with poison to get a far better result at either paralyzing her enemy or killing them slowly and excruciatingly.

Arya finally understood the reason the three-eyed-raven had wanted her to meet Howland Reed. The poison and the blowpipe would certainly become of use to her for assassination, if she had need to kill people out right.

As she continued with her journey, Arya silently wondered who else she was going to meet on her way to Old Town.

* * *


	5. Chapter 5

 

Arya bid her farewell to Howland Reed, who told her to come visit him again if she ever got the chance.

"You will always be welcome in Greywater Watch Aryan." The boy had said to her and Arya knew the boy spoke true.

"I will someday, Howland. I thank you once again for your generosity. I promise I will find a way to pay you back," had been Arya's reply and Howland had simply smiled and said, "I know you want to, but you have no need to repay me. Your friendship will be enough as I've been told by a wise man in my dream."

When she heard him mentioned a dream, Arya knew that the three-eyed-raven had a hand in the boy's attitude towards her. Arya wondered what other things Bryden Rivers had told Howland Reed. So as she rested for a while beneath an oak tree near the Twins by mid-noon, Arya had the chance to talk to the three-eyed-ravens in regards to that.

"Did you visit Howland's dream the night before I met him perchance?" Arya asked him.

"I might have," came the Old man's hoarse reply in the wind.

"What did you tell him?" She inquired.

"I may have told him to be generous to a passing traveler, and that he shall be rewarded a hundredfold and shall acquire a friendship that will last for a lifetime."

Arya wanted to roll her eyes at the Old man's sentimental words. Bryden Rivers was a harsh and cold man, she knew, so hearing him speak about ' _friendship that will last for a lifetime_ ' was hard to believe. She suspected that Bloodraven had simply said that to Howland Reed to get the desired result.

"So that explains the reason Howland Reed was willing to provide me with what I need."

"Yes," Bryden Rivers replied, "And you meeting him was necessary. He's another ally that you may want in the future along with many others."

"And will you tell me who are these  _others_ you mention?"

"You need not concern yourself with that, child, because you will meet them soon enough."

Of how soon enough, Arya could only wonder.

.

She past the Twins without much difficulty and went straight for Fair Market, where she planned to change her horse and cut some loose ends. By now, her family must have described her in great detail in the letters that they had sent throughout the realm; from her physical features, to the clothes she had stolen, and even perhaps the horse she had ridden.

Arya hadn't wanted to take the chance of being recognized so she had smeared some dirt on her face and shaved most of her hair until her head was as smooth as an egg. And seeing that Benjen's clothes were made of fine, northern quality, Arya had discarded them and replaced them with something more inconspicuous and made of poorer attire instead; clothes which she had stolen on someone's hanging laundry in Fair Market. Now, the chance of thieves preying on her would be less if she appeared like she hailed from the lowest of the low.

And so far, everything was going smoothly for Arya Stark, albeit it was by pure happenstance when she met someone familiar in Fair Market this time around. She had been bargaining to sell her horse to a Horse Master when she saw them.

"I am selling my horse for three silver stags." Arya tried to negotiate with the Horse Master. "No more, no less."

"You are asking far too much boy. Three silver stags is too much for a low-breed courser like yours." The House Master had objected. "I say twenty copper stars."

Arya bristled at the insult and the suggestion of such a low bargain. She opened her mouth to protest, but a voice from behind her stopped Arya before she could say something unpleasant to the man.

"I would like to buy that fine courser of yours." Arya turned to see who had spoken and saw a redheaded man with Tully blue eyes. Arya instantly recognized her great grand uncle, Brynden Tully.

The sight of him looking so young and smiling at her unnerved Arya, but most of all, it made her wary of him, and that of his two companions.

"Three silver stags, is it?" the Blackfish asked, smiling kindly at her. "I say that's a fine bargain for a horse that looks like it can last for more than a week of riding."

Arya silently nodded her head. Her eyes glancing at the two boys standing beside the Blackfish. Arya saw the young Edmure Tully and a blonde-haired boy, who must be a friend of his.

She stared at her Uncle and Arya wondered if the Gods have, indeed, began interfering as well, now that Arya was moving to change the course of history. This would be the second or third time that she was meeting someone whom she knew she should meet in a latter date.

"My nephew needs a new horse." Bryden Tully explained. "His horse has become lame when we were traveling. The poor mount..."

"If you are looking for some fresh horses, my lord, I am able to provide you a better offer and different choices. This boy's horse has obviously been ridden for days and is not suitable for the young Lord." The Master of Horses said and Arya scowled at him.

"I want his courser." Edmure Tully said as he met Arya's eyes. "I think it's a fine mount. I don't need a fresh one for traveling to Riverrun, which will take less than three days. I'm sure the horse can last that long."

Arya wanted to smile at the red-headed boy. Edmure Tully must have heard the Master of Horse giving Arya a hard time and the boy was probably offering to buy her horse out of pity for her. He must have thought she needed the money, which was not really far from the truth. Arya needed the money, yes, but to buy a new horse and discard the last evidence of her northern roots.

She remembered how her lady mother had told her that her Uncle was known to be a hot-headed but good-hearted youth. Edmure Tully had a number of friends, her mother had said, but most notably Marq Piper. Perhaps the blonde-haired boy who stood beside the Blackfish must be  _that_  Marq Piper.

"The horse appears to be healthy and I believe still fit for a three days ride to Riverrun." The Blackfish said as he inspected the horse. "I think my nephew here will be able to ride the mount without running it to the ground."

"Yes, Danny here is a fast horse." Arya agreed. "She can swiftly take you wherever you want to go…akin to riding a dragon."

The Blackfish let out a chuckle at her comparison while the blonded-haired boy who stood beside Edmure Tully asked, "Danny?"

"That's what my brother named her." Arya wasn't sorry for lying and naming the horse after Queen Daenerys Targaryen. She hadn't really like the Queen that much when she had arrived in Winterfell.

"Are you traveling alone?" a voice broke through Arya's wondering thoughts and she looked up to see Edmure Tully waiting for her response.

Arya shouldn't linger for long. Surely, they would begin to suspect who she was if she stayed and talked to them.

"No, I'm traveling with my brothers. They're still probably replenishing our supplies now." She said, taking her horse's reins and handing it over to the boy, who took it with a curious look on his face.

"I will take your offer, milords. Now, if you will…" She said, extending her arm with her palm opened. It was a silent request for the money they had promised her.

"Such a rude brat," the Horse Master muttered from behind her. "Wait for them to give you the money boy!"

The Blackfish, however, simply laughed and said dismissively. "No need to get offended, good man. The boy seemed to be in a hurry to leave…as I, and my companions, all are."

There was clink of coins as Bryden Tully took out his purse and then gave three silver stags to Arya. She didn't bit on it and check it if it was counterfeit. Arya knew it wasn't, and she didn't want to make a habit of checking the coins that she was given, just like the man in Braavos who had bitten on the poisoned coin she had snuck into his client's purse. She never knew…someone might do the same to her someday.

"Might I ask why you are selling your horse then? It appears that your horse is still in good condition for traveling." Edmure asked and Arya tried not to tense at his question.

_Now, that is good question._  Arya thought. She needed to leave from there before they realized that something was amiss with her, though not before answering that last question, of course.

"My brother wants to sell this particular horse because it kept on asking for food and we can't afford to buy more horse feed. We lack the coins as it is, and another mouth to feed is just too much for my brothers." She explained.

That was a better reason than lying that the horse loves to bite its rider. Certainly, they won't relieve her off Danny and Arya would be left to find a way to sell her to someone else, which she won't have enough time. She needed the leave Fair Market within a day.

"If there's nothing else you may require of me, milords, I will bid my leave then." She said as she bowed deeply. "It's an honor doing business with you, milords. May you have a safe journey."

After bidding her leave, Arya swiftly left to look for another place to buy a horse. She hoped that she won't run into her  _very distant relatives_  again, lest they would discover that she had lied about her brothers as well.

.

Arya left Fair Market within a day after acquiring a new horse. Once more, she took the long route, though she still past by near Darry, and then traveled the east most part of Harrenhall.

As she past the notorious castle, she could see the castle's five towers of dizzying size and the equally colossal curtain walls which was high as mountain cliffs. However, much of Harrenhal has far gone into decay. The stones of the tower were bent, lumped, and cracked from the melting of the stone during the burning of Harrenhal by the Targaryen dragons three centuries earlier. Arya knew bats infest the tops of some of the towers and it seemed a fitting home for House Whent who emblazoned their arms with nine black bats displayed over a yellow field.

In four days, she still had food that she had taken from Winterfell and she continue eat it little by little with the hope that it would last until she reached past the Kingswood outside Kingslanding.

.

She past by the Hayford's Castle, and soon enough, Arya was nearing King's Landing. She merged into the wagon train that was moving towards the City. It was better to travel with some company than alone. For sure, most would become suspicious if she entered the city on her own.

As she went through the Dragon's Gate alongside the lines of wagons and its tenders, the guards of the City Watch barely glanced at her way. More than that, she was able to gather some snippets of news from the North. The same information she heard when she had been in Fair Market.

"The entire North is in uproar. Lord Stark's eight-year-old daughter could still not be found despite their efforts." She heard one man said, who sat on his wagon while talking to the man sitting beside him.

Arya slowed her horse to listen to their conversation.

"There are rumors running about that the Boltons had taken her and kept her in their dungeons to be skinned alive."

"Lord Bolton must have taken Lord Stark's daughter for revenge, perhaps for a slight long past due," said the other man. "And it is no secret that House Bolton and House Stark has bad blood between them for centuries."

Arya wanted to groan as she heard the rumors. She wondered how Domeric was faring now that she knew the people were specifically blaming the Bolton's for her disappearance. Arya would have to remedy that soon by sending a raven to her family, and Domeric too, to stop them from worrying about her.

She would have to write to them that she was fine.

However, to convince them that she was truly unharmed and alive, that was another matter that Arya knew would be hard to do. They would be worried, she knew, and for good reasons too. For certain, her family would continue looking for her despite her attempts at appeasement.

Arya was still contemplating about sending the missive when Arya finally detached herself from the wagon trail and moved towards Flea Bottom, where she intend to buy some bread in the Street of Flour. She rode swiftly past the Dragon Pit; the huge, cavernous building that sat atop Rhaenys's hill.

Maneuvering through the traffic, her nose wrinkled when she smelled the familiar unsavory stench that told her that she was drawing near Flea Bottom located down the west side of Rhaeny's Hill. The place was a maze of twisty, unpaved alleys and cross-streets while the buildings lean over the narrow alleys, almost touching.

Ahead of her, she saw a gathering of people. She soon realized that they were listening to someone play a haunting music from a harp.

Her nose wrinkled all the more in distaste. Arya had never like to listen to music, unlike her sister who seemed to sigh at every romantic songs she heard.

However, this song was different. The melody was soft and melancholic that could bring anyone to tears. Arya could already see some women weeping in the crowd and she wanted to snort at their reaction.

Arya would have ignored the performance if she hadn't taken a glance at the harper and the hooded man standing in attention close by. She was sitting atop of her horse and it meant she saw from a better vantage point. She instantly recognized the man beneath the hood of his cloak. Arya still remembered the man who had been part of the King's Guard when she had been a child and staying in the Red Keep in her first life.

Eventhough he appeared young and not wearing his King's Guard armor at the moment, she knew that face.

The man was none other than Ser Barristan Selmy and he was standing close to the harper in a protective way that made Arya's eyes narrow.

Arya's eyes turned to the one playing the harp and knew at once who he was, even when he had hidden some of features with a red and black half-mask and his hair concealed by a hood of his cloak.

She halted her horse and stared at the harper.

* * *

**Author's Note:**  I'm sorry for the very short chapter, like I said, I intend to update this story as often as I can but with short chapters. Anyway, thank you so much for reading, following, reviewing, and favoriting this story! I hope you tell me what you think! I know this chapter was another boring one. I'm sorry! I hope to remedy that by the next chapter!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> wherein Arya meets a certain Prince

 

Arya led her horse in an ideal spot where she could watch the entertainment without being noticed or hindering the traffic. Even though she hadn't met the Prince before, but she knew who exactly it was beneath that red and black mask, if the Kingsguard standing at attention beside the harper was not proof enough.

So she waited for the Prince to finish playing his harp because Arya intended to talk to him. She didn't know much about Prince Rhaegar Targaryen, other than the accounts she heard from the History Books as well as the gossip she heard in Winterfell.

It was a well-known story that Lyanna Stark was said to have been abducted by Prince Rhaegar - and upon Robert Baratheon's insistence – and raped her repeatedly.

Arya had believed it at first until Bran had told her the truth about what happened. Sansa would have definitely approved about what their Aunt had done by running away with some handsome prince, but to Arya, it sounded stupid.

Certainly, she would never do something so silly such as eloping with some Prince. She may be running away from home at the moment, but Arya was doing it to better herself. She had to run away because she needed to acquire the special ability of the Faceless Men, and she won't be able to do that by languishing in Winterfell and acting like a perfect lady.

Arya contemplated while half-listening to the song that the Prince was singing. It was a sad song, and as Arya listened carefully, the song was about a woman named Jenny or some such.

Slowly, Arya's attention drifted as she continued to wait for the Prince to finish his performance. Her thoughts turned towards her family and the chaos she had left behind.

 _How do I convince my family that I am alive and well and I haven't been abducted by the Boltons?_  Arya wondered silently.

Bloodraven had advised her that she tell the truth. That she should let her family know where she was headed, not specifically, just the general direction where she was going, and it included telling them about the people she had, and would, encounter along the way, who would serve as witnesses to Arya that she was alive and well and truly running away from home.

Still, Arya hesitated. For if she provided the names of those who had seen her traveling south, then her family would soon discover how she looked like now. She may have transformed herself and shaved most of her hair, but Howland Reed and the Tullys would certainly described the boy that they had met in detail once her family started sending someone to make inquiries across the Neck and the Riverlands.

If that happened, people would surely identify her once she reached the Citadel.

However, Bloodraven had assured her that she won't be staying in the Citadel for long. Perhaps less than a moon turns, he had said, for her to steal the books and then she would be leaving for Braavos soon after. Despite Bryden Rivers assurance, Arya still harbored doubts of providing the names of those she had met in the letter. For she planned to send the letter to her family once she reached the Rose Road.

"STOP YOUR SINGING, YOU HARPER!" Someone yelled all of a sudden and Arya straightened up in time to see a boy of no more than seven throw something over the crowd and straight at the said harper.

There was a collective gasp as mud splattered across the harper's scarlet robes.

Arya observed how Ser Barristan Selmy suddenly moved to protect the Prince, his hand reaching for his sword.

"Who threw that?" The knight asked loudly, scanning the crowd. "Who dare threw – "

"RIGHT HERE, YOU OLD MAN!" A voice yelled to her right, and when Arya whirled around, she could see more peasant boys appearing in every narrow alleyway and carrying something in their hands.

It appeared that the band of thieving children had surrounded the area. Arya knew them to be thieves because she had seen the youngest and the smallest of them go through the crowd while the people were too enthralled on the Prince's music.

Then, without warning, the troupe started throwing mud and shit at the crowd and at the two people in the middle.

Chaos erupted at once.

"GO AWAY, YOUR HARPER! THIS IS NOT YOUR TERRITORY! THIS IS OURS!" a gangly boy shouted, who appeared to be no older than four-and-ten. Arya knew instantly that he was the leader. The boy threw something at the Prince and Ser Barristan Selmy. However, some of it hit the bystanders as well.

Arya's eyes narrowed, gripping the reins of her horse tightly.

"YOU CAN'T PERFORM HERE!" said another boy of no more than ten years of age.

"AYE! WE DON'T LIKE SINGERS HERE!" yelled the only girl there.

"AWAY WITH YOU BOTH!"

The barrage continued on while the people ran and duck for cover. Arya watched as the crowd dispersed in seconds. People were shouting, cursing and stumbling over each other to get away from the pandemonium.

The harper, whom she knew was the Prince, was still being protected by Barristan the Bold. The knight took the brunt of the attack with his body, shielding the Prince from most of it.

 _Fool_. Arya thought as she watched how Ser Barristan Selmy hadn't moved from the place, except stood there and just simply accept the shit.

Sighing out loud, Arya decided to interfere. She prodded her horse forward and moved towards the two. Her worn cloak flapping in the wind.

"STOP IT, YOU STUPID BOYS!" Arya howled, drawing the trouble-maker's attention towards her.

They paused in their attack. Arya hoped that Ser Barristan Selmy took the hint to leave from there and take the Prince to a safe location.

However, Ser Barristan Selmy remained where he stood with his cloak thrown over the Prince's hunched figure.

 _More fool he is._  Arya thought in frustration as she drew near to the pair.

"THE CITY WATCH ARE COMING THIS WAY, YOU IDIOTS!" She shouted the lie with the hopes of distracting the trouble-makers for a while. "LEAVE BEFORE THEY COME FOR YOU!"

"AND WHO ARE YOU TO TELL US WHAT TO DO, HUH?!" One of the boys said, "ARE YOU OUR LEADER?!"

"LIAR! WE DON'T SEE NO GOLD CLOAKS COMING THIS WAY!" said another, probably the scout of the poor lot. "THE BOY IS LYING! DON'T BELIEVE HIM! HE'S PROBABLY A FRIEND OF THE HARPER!"

"GET HIM!" yelled another one.

Arya cursed as they started throwing some of those nasty things at her. There was mud and shit flying everywhere as she tried to evade most of the attack. She would have bolted out of there fast, if it weren't for the sight of the Prince and the foolish Kingsguard.

The sound of pounding hooves was nearly loud as the beating of her heart when she neared the pair. At the sound of her approach, Ser Barristan Selmy looked up and saw her halting in front of them.

"Quickly and climb up!" Arya said hurriedly to them, extending her hand to the Prince who looked up at her as well. "Grab my hand and climb up before they close on us! They're not going to stop until you both leave this place!"

She could feel something hit her back and her pack, but she decided to ignore it. Her horse was becoming agitated too as her mount got hit in its flank and side.

The two simply stared at her and at her hand for moment. The Kingsguard looked at her with suspicion while the Prince regarded her with curiosity.

"I'm here to help, you idiots! So stop staring and climb up!" Arya exclaimed in annoyance. "What are you two waiting for?!"

"I think the two of us can't fit in your horse, dear child." Ser Barristan said by acknowledgement, "Perhaps one of us can ride with you, but –"

Arya immediately turned her attention to the Prince and barked at him instead, "You! As soon as you leave this place harper, then those thieving lot would soon cease their attack. Better come with me than allow yourself to be bombarded by loads of shit and –"

"Alright," the boy said to her suddenly, grabbing a hold of her hand and hauling himself up into Arya's horse before Arya could finish her sentence.

"I'll go with you." Prince Rhaegar Targaryen said while he settled behind her.

It was Arya's turn to stare at him this time.

"But my prin –" Ser Barristan Selmy began in protest but the Prince shot him a look. The knight fell silent at once.

"I may not know the boy, but I think I can trust his words." The Prince assured the knight, "You have no reason to worry. I will be riding in horseback while you can follow us on foot. I'm sure you are able to catch up to us if you run fast enough. Now, let us leave this place before those children start throwing something more dangerous at us."

Arya didn't need to be told twice as something hit her on the side of her face. Her nose wrinkled when she could smell the stench of horse shit on herself.

"Shit!" She cursed loudly while she tried to wipe her face clean.

"Indeed," she heard the Prince murmur behind her.

Arya wanted to glare at him, but instead prodded her horse forward and rode away from there.

Behind them, they could hear the thieving children shouting after them.

"DON'T LET THEM ESCAPE!"

When Arya looked around, she saw Ser Barristan Selmy running and following close by, but he wasn't the only one following behind. Arya could still see some of the peasant boys running and trying to throw shit and mud in their direction.

Gritting her teeth, Arya leaned forward on her horse and pressed her knees on the horse's flanks to prompt her mount into a full gallop. Soon enough, they were riding past the Street of Flour. All the people moved out of their way. Arya listened to them gasp in surprise and curse at them as they rode past.

"You pick up the wrong place to play your harp and sing your songs, princeling." Arya commented to the Prince in a grim tone. "You should have stuck to playing in court or singing in your room than do both in Flea Bottom, of all places."

"You know who I am?"

She heard the Prince asked in both shock and confusion.

"Yes, I know who you are." Arya replied without looking at him. "However, I wouldn't have known it was you, if it weren't for the presence of your Kingsguard, Ser Barristan Selmy, by your side. As it happens, I recognized the knight, and concluded that you must be someone from the Royal family if he was there to act as your protector. Moreover, it is known to all that the Silver Prince is rather skillful with the high harp, and you weren't really hiding your talent in that regard in front of those crowd… From there, I was able to guess who you were from the start...Prince Rhaegar Targaryen."

There was a momentary silence as they moved through the deserted alleyway, which was only broken by the sound of the horses's hooves.

"You are quite observant for someone so young." The Prince remarked with a hint of amusement.

In response, Arya simply said dismissively. "I have a good memory, is all. I remember seeing Ser Barristan Selmy when I was young and so I recognized him at once even beneath his hooded cloak. Apart from seeing his face, the man has a distinct way of carrying himself, you see…and it must be the stoop of his shoulders that gave it away."

"That's...interesting." Prince Rhaegar said.

Arya shrugged her shoulders. "If you say so, princeling."

"Call me, Rhaegar." The boy suggested to her. "I think it's only fair to allow you to call me by my name after saving me from that place."

There was another pause as she maneuvered their way through the twists and turns in Pisswater Bend.

"May I know your name?" the Prince asked a moment later as Arya finally halted her horse. Somewhere behind them, she could hear Ser Barristan Selmy still running, though farther behind than before.

"No." She said, glancing at him. "But you may call me  _no one_."

"Well,  _no one_ …since you were able to guess who I am. I think we'll be even if I tell you what I have guess about you so far." The Prince said, looking at her.

Beneath his mask and the hood of his cloak, the Prince's eyes appear more black than purple.

"And what have you guess?" Arya asked, half-amused and half-intrigued, wondering what the Prince thought of her.

"That you are a girl," came the Prince's reply and Arya instantly froze upon hearing the Prince's answer.


	7. Chapter 7

* * *

 

 

"May I ask why are you in disguise?" The Prince asked once Arya's horse came to a halt somewhere in Gin Alley.

"No, you may not." Arya said bluntly. "And since you're safe now, I think it's time for you to go."

"But I haven't even repaid you yet for saving me." The Silver Prince said as he came down from the saddle.

"You need not worry, your grace. I shan't ask anything from you as repayment. Meeting a Prince is enough for me, and I'm kind of in a hurry, you see."

"Why are you in such a hurry to leave?" the Prince inquired, looking curious.

"That's none of your business, princeling." She said, furrowing her brows at him. "So if you're done interrogating me, I bid you my leave."

"Can you wait a while for my King's Guard to catch up?"

"No, but I'm sure your King's Guard will be here soon. So you don't need to worry about being alone here."

"May I know your true name at least?" The Prince persisted.

"I told you." Arya began, turning her horse around while she remained looking at the Prince.

"I'm  _no one_."

After having said that, she prodded her horse forward and galloped away from the alley.

Not even looking back to make certain that the Prince was safe there.

* * *

As swiftly as she arrived, Arya left King's Landing through the River Gate or the Mud Gate, fearing that the Prince might suspect her to be the missing Lyanna Stark at this point. So she did not take time to buy some supplies in the City, not even to stop by the Street of Flour to buy some bread. Instead, she decided to buy them on her way to the Roseroad. Perhaps by then, no one would catch wind of her whereabouts.

The Roseroad doesn't directly begin at King's Landing, but Arya had to pass south of the mouth of the Blackwater River, and under the eves of the Kingswood before she could see the road. Arya had to go deep into the Kingswood and from there the road would run southwest across much of the Reach until it arrived at Highgarden.

The road would also cross the great Mander River twice on the way from King's Landing to Highgarden, where Arya would eat her supper at the Bittersweet Inn near Bitterbridge, as advised by the three-eyed-raven the other night.

Once again, she used the ravens to guide her journey in the Roseroad, hoping that she won't need to use any of the weapons she had acquired to defend herself against bandits.

Hence, Arya moved swiftly and straight to the Bittersweet Inn, barely deigning to glance at the Bitterbridge Castle situated where the river Mander meets the Roseroad.

The Bittersweet Inn was a nothing much to look upon, but a small place made for passing travelers like her. It was also a good place to get a proper meal for her empty stomach.

Arya was saddling her horse in the stables when someone suddenly mistaken her for the stable boy.

"Begging pardon boy, but can you fetch my horse in the back stalls of the stables?"

Arya looked up and saw a young knight, who appeared to be no more than three and ten, and wearing a purple cloak, stood at the stable entrance.

"You go ahead and fetch your horse yourself," she replied, "I am no stable boy."

"My apologies, but who is the stable boy around here, if not you?" the knight with a Dornish accent asked.

As Arya scrutinized the knight, she finally noticed the sigil in his purple cloak and was curious to see the reason why such a knight was travelling this far from Dorne.

"Perhaps he has left to tend to other errand." Arya replied, "So good luck finding him."

Afterward, Arya sauntered away, but she could still feel the eyes of the knight pressing on her back as she moved towards the Inn.

She ignored the stare, however.

.

Arya found herself a private alcove where she could observe the people around her. She was sitting in one of the chairs and eyeing the rest of the purple-cloaked knights across the room when the serving maid tried to shoo her away.

"What are you doing here all alone by yourself, little boy?" the serving maid asked suspiciously.

"I'm not alone. I'm waiting for my brother." Arya lied, "He's still outside in the stables tending to our horses."

"You are a liar, that's what you are." The woman pointed a rude finger at Arya. "We don't want no strays here…so shoo!"

The young serving maid who appeared to be fifteen summers old, obviously didn't believe her and tried to force her to leave. Arya scowled. She didn't want to cause a scene, which would draw the attention of everyone in the room, if she did it. So she decided to just keep silent and slowly stood up.

Suddenly, someone appeared beside Arya, who had the audacity to place a hand on her shoulder and made her sit back down on her chair.

"He's with me," said the same knight who first assumed Arya to be a stable boy.

"You're his brother?" The serving maid asked, taking note of the knight's sun-kissed skin, and compared to Arya's dirty, pale ones, they look dissimilar; and while the knight clearly had purple eyes and raven-dark hair, Arya had grey orbs and dark brown hair.

More than that, judging from the young serving maids quick appraisal of the knight, he was a handsome one too.

And it was obvious to anyone, who look too closely at Arya and the knight, that they were not even siblings.

Arya's scowl deepened, suddenly being reminded of another purple-eyed knight she met in her past life.

 _Edric Dayne_.

"Begging your pardon, ser…but you don't look like his brother." The serving maid stated hesitantly.

"I may not be his brother, but I will be paying for his food." The knight said, flashing the woman a charming smile.

The serving maid instantly became flustered at the knight's attention.

For some odd reason, Arya wanted to growl at their interaction. She certainly did not want to witness the knight's and serving maid's flirtation.

Arya was so annoyed by the two of them that she missed hearing what the knight uttered about free food.

"You shouldn't take pity on the stray, good ser." The young serving maid advised. "They will just come back to ask you for more."

"Thank you for the advice, but I think I will be the judge of that." The knight replied, still smiling kindly at the serving maid.

Afterward, Arya half-listened to the knight order some food in behalf of Arya and himself. She was still ignoring the knight when he finally sat down opposite her and started striking up a conversation with her.

"So what's your name?"

There was a paused when Arya contemplated about the list of names she could give him.

"Jon," came her short and curt reply. "And you?"

"My name is Ser Arthur Dayne."

Arya didn't even blink upon hearing the name. She should be surprise to hear it, but she wasn't at all, because she had already guess who he was the moment Arya saw his dark purple eyes; the same eyes as his nephew, Edic Dayne.

"May I ask where you are going?" She inquired after a moment of silence when she did not react to his name.

Everyone knew the Sword of the Morning. Arya, however, didn't care a whit about his title.

"I'm going to King's Landing to join the knights of the King's Guards." Arthur replied.

"Why do you want to join the King's Guards?"

"Why to serve the King, of course."

"Why? I hear the King is Mad." Arya said, but her eyes were on the food that had been laid out by their serving maid just a second ago.

Not waiting for the knight's prompting, Arya began gobbling unto the food. She was famished after all.

"You shouldn't be saying that, little one. Someone might hear you."

"I don't care, and don't call me  _little one_. I am no older than you." Arya managed to say through a mouthful of poached beef dipped with honey.

"How old are you then?" Ser Arthur Dayne asked as he began eating his venison.

"I'm ten years old." She lied.

The knight paused to appraise her with narrowed eyes.

"I don't think so... You barely look pass nine." Ser Arthur concluded.

"Are you calling me a liar?"

"No, I do not. I'm merely stating my observation."

There's was another pause as the two continued to eat.

By this time, the knight appeared to be amuse at the sight of Arya's poor manners and lack of proper etiquette, instead of him being offended by it.

Arya decided she liked Arthur Dayne better than his nephew.

"I have a brother who joined the Night's Watch too, you know. He was an honorable man, like you…" Arya informed him as she attacked the next dish beside her. "Are you sure you want to join the King's Guard?"

"Yes."

"I think you shouldn't." Arya told him, a crust of bread sticking around her mouth. "I think you should go back to Starfall and forget about becoming a King's Guard."

"Why?"

"Because you might fall in love with a woman."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because my brother fell in love with some wildling woman and broke his vow. He was never the same again after she died."

"I'm not like your brother, and nor am I an oathbreaker."

"You say this, but you can't be certain. Some men break their vows, even the honorable ones." Arya said before digging into more of her poached beef.

Much later, after having filled their bellies with food. Arya decided that she should leave, with Arthur wanting to send her off.

Arthur and Arya began walking towards the stables where she had saddled her mare.

"Thank you for the food." Arya said once she was saddling up her horse.

"Your welcome." Ser Arthur said, smiling. "But before you go, I have something to say to you. A word of advice, if you will."

"What is it?" Arya asked curiously.

"I know you are not truly a boy, and Jon is not your name, and I know that you must have run away from home."

Arya instantly froze at the other Knight's loud conclusion.

"You know nothing!'' She hissed, angry for some reason. She pointed a finger at his chest and said, "You know nothing Ser. Not at all!"

"But I know enough…enough to understand that you are a wild child, a wild thing who is far from home." Ser Arthur Dayne said, grabbing a hold of her hand. "So Here. I have something for you before you go from here."

Before Arya knew what was happening, the knight suddenly pressed something in the palm of her hand. She caught a glint of silver and instantly knew what it was.

"A dagger?" She asked, her anger immediately vanishing at the sight of it. "Why are you giving me a dagger?"

"For your protection," was Arthur's simple reply.

Arya fell silent, still staring at the weapon in her hand.

"The dagger is castle-forged." Arthur informed her. "I am sure you know how to use it."

"Yes," She admitted, weighing the dagger in her hand and found to her joy that it was well-balanced.

"If someone tries to do something to you…" Arthur began, giving her a solemn look. "Just stick them–"

"-with the pointy end," Arya finished for him, her eyes growing wide as she stared at the Knight with new eyes.

"Jon?" She whispered. "Jon is that you?"

* * *

 **Author's Note:**  Thank you for reading! Your reviews fuels my passion for writing so please don't hesitate to tell me what you think! If you want to see the aesthetics, story trailer and photoshopped edits that I made for the story please check out my twitter, facebook pinterest, youtube or tumblr account. But you can always contact me on  _ **twitter, facebook or tumblr**  _so please don't be a stranger and let us be friends!

 

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> where in Arya meets a certain Tyrell heir

.

"Jon?" Arthur said, frowning. "I'm sorry but I thought that was your name, or at least, the name you use."

Arya's hope deflated at once and she looked away from him.

"I'm sorry too." Arya replied, giving the young man a tight smile. "I mistake you for someone else."

"Your brother perhaps?" Arthur Dayne guessed in a solemn tone.

"Yes," She replied, feeling her heart tightened at the thought of Jon. "He's name is Jon Snow."

"I see…" the Sword of the Morning said, "Why do you think I was him?"

"Because – because you said the same words." Arya explained. "Stick them with the pointy end. You reminded me of him."

"Oh…" the knight murmured, "I'm sorry but I'm not him, little one. The words just came to me…"

"I know." Arya replied, smiling sadly at him. "Still, thank you for the dagger."

"You are welcome." He said, giving Arya a somber smile of his own.

There was a long pause as they regarded each other in silence.

"It's getting dark." She told him as she finally took the reins of her horse. "I think I should be going."

"Yes, yes, of course." Arthur said, "Be careful in your journey."

"I will. Thanks," was Arya's response as she mounted her mare. "I hope to see you again, Ser Arthur Dayne. Perhaps sometimes in the future."

"Don't worry, little one." The Sword of the Morning said, "Different roads sometimes lead to the same castle."

And Arya nearly burst into tears after hearing his words while her mind kept on repeating.  _ **Jon. Jon. Jon.**_

 _Could it be her brother residing in Arthur's soul? Perhaps Jon has forgotten about the future and now he's just simply Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning._ Arya thought, but she decided to explore this possibility at a later time. After confronting the three-eyed-raven about the matter.

"Farewell," Arya said to the Dayne knight and couldn't help but feel like she was saying good bye to Jon again.

She was about to prompt her horse to move forward when Arthur Dayne stopped her.

"Wait." He said, "You never said your true name was."

Arya stared into those purple eyes of his and was torn between admitting her real name or not. However, soon she decided to be half honest with him.

"My name is Lyanna." She told him. "And I am from the North."

"So far from home," Arthur murmured, sounding troubled. "Are you certain you are fine on your own?"

"Yes, I will be." Arya replied, trying to assure the worried knight.

"Where do you plan to go?"

"Somewhere further south." She said evasively.

"Dorne?"

"Perhaps."

"To be honest, I'm not comfortable in letting you go without a proper escort." Arthur admitted to her.

"If I was to have an escort, who would want to escort someone like me? I'm a nobody." Arya said to him.

"You don't sound like a nobody to me. In fact, I've got a feeling that you are more than you appear to be."

Arya became wary at the scrutinizing look on the knight's face. Perhaps it was a bad idea to tell the knight her name. Arthur Dayne would draw the conclusion soon enough about who she really was once he heard the news of Lyanna Stark's disappearance from the North.

"Ser," Arya began. "You need not worry about me. I'm perfectly fine travelling on my own."

"If you are certain," He remarked in a concern voice.

"I am." She told him firmly. "Now, if you would just let me go and I'll be on my way before it gets dark."

"Alright." He said while he stepped back from her horse.

"Farewell, Ser Arthur." Arya said to him.

"Farewell, Lyanna." The knight said, bowing at the waist. "It was nice meeting you."

"As did I." She said before prompting her horse to gallop away.

She turned around for a moment and she saw him still standing there and watching her leave. His purple cloak flapping in the wind. His solemn eyes haunted Arya. The shape of Arthur's eyes were similar to her brother Jon. Not only that, but the way he carried himself as well. So still and quite like Jon when he brooded.

Arya could already imagine Arthur Dayne in his Kingsguard armor, a contrast to Jon's black outfit of the Night's Watch. She could see Arthur Dayne in a white cloak. A cloak so white as fresh fallen Snow, and Arya wondered who he truly was.

.

Later that night, Arya asked the three-eyed-raven about Ser Arthur Dayne.

"Is he Jon?"

The three-eyed-raven didn't answer for a moment before he finally said.

"No."

Arya was disappointed about the old man's answer.

However, there was something about the three-eyed-raven's response that bothered Arya. It felt like the old man was not telling her everything.

"Who is he then?" She asked him.

"He's Ser Arthur Dayne. The Sword of the Morning. No one you must know," and that was all the three-eyed-raven said that night.

And Arya felt like there was something more to his statement.

.

.

.

Arya traveled through the Roseroad for a day and half until she met a travelling troupe. Thankfully, they didn't question her lack of companions and easily welcome her in their midst. Perhaps they were concerned for her well-being since she was on her own.

The troupe were headed to Highgarden and so Arya allowed herself to befriend the members of the troupe as they traveled through the Roseroad.

Her encounter with Ser Arthur Dayne still bothered Arya, but she preoccupied herself with interacting with the troupe. Still, at night, Arya couldn't help but wonder if she made a mistake in leaving the knight behind. Perhaps she should have gone with him to King's Landing.

 _And then what?_  Arya asked herself.  _What am I going to do in King's Landing? Pretend to be his squire?_

She shook those thoughts away and concentrated on her journey. It was no use in dwelling on that encounter. Arya was certain that she was going to see the Sword of the Morning once more. Perhaps after she visited the Citadel.

Arya continued to travel with the troupe, and on the fourth day, they finally arrived at Highgarden where she decided to replenish her supplies before travelling to the Citadel. She was in the market and was just finished haggling for items and food, when a hawk suddenly landed on her shoulder.

Arya was startled by its appearance and nearly let go of the bag she was carrying on her shoulder. She looked at the hawk and saw the three-eyed-raven staring back at her through its eyes.

"It seems my hawk has taken a liking to you." A young voice said from behind her and Arya turned around to see who it was.

She was surprise to see that the one who had spoken was a young lordling in Tyrell colors. No older than Arya herself, and she didn't need to be smart enough to know that the boy was someone important, judging from the guards shadowing the boy a distant away.

"And who the hell are you?" Arya blurted out, uncaring that she was being rude.

A flicker of surprise crossed the boy's face at Arya's apparent rudeness, but he seemed to easily dismiss Arya's lack of propriety.

"Pardon me," the boy said as he walked near her. "My name is Willas Tyrell."

At the boy's name, Arya frowned in thought. She knew who Willas Tyrell was. She remembered hearing it from her Septa who had informed her that he was the Heir to Highgarden, and he had been a cripple too.

Now, however, the boy could still walk on his legs.

Arya neither bowed nor curtsied as the boy seemed to expect upon introducing himself.

"And you are?" the boy asked her.

Instead of answering the boy's question, Arya instead grabbed hold of the hawk and handed the bird to him.

"Here. Here's your hawk." She told him.

She didn't know what the three-eyed-raven's plans were, but she was tired after a day of haggling with vendors. She had no time to be talking to young lordling in the middle of a busy market street.

"Ah… Thank you," the Tyrell heir said to her as he took the hawk gently out from her hands.

"You are welcome," was Arya's only response. Then, without preamble, she began to walk away from him, not even giving the boy a backward glance.

Arya had not even walk a good distance away from the boy when suddenly there was a gust of wind before a weight settled on her shoulder.

She turned her head to the side and saw the hawk preening there.

Arya let out an exasperated breath at the sight of the bird and was not surprise to hear the sound of the boy calling out to her once more.

"I'm sorry. I don't know what has gotten into him." The boy cried out as he came running towards her, his guards not too far behind. "He's usually quite tame, I assure you, but Rodrig seems so taken with you."

Arya pivoted around and met the boy's hazel eyes once again.

"It's alright." She told him, "I understand. No need to get flustered about it."

The boy was flushed and panting while he stood before her. However, the redness on Willas Tyrell's face only seemed to deepen at her words.

"I was out hawking in the woods near here, you see…but I saw Rodrig fly away towards the market and I know instantly that something must have caught his attention." The Tyrell heir explained, "I didn't know that Rodrig would be interested in a person."

Arya simply shrugged her shoulders while she said, "Birds are odd creatures, your Lordship. Perhaps he's only interested in the food that I brought with me."

She indicated the bag she's been carrying and the boy glanced at it.

"What kind of food do you have there?" the Tyrell heir asked.

"Just some bread and dry meat…and some fresh fruits." She said, remembering what she has bought with her that day. "Not much else."

"So you're travelling then?" the boy inquired after he noticed her travelling outfit and her pack bag.

"Yes, I am." She responded.

"Oh," the boy murmured contemplatively. "Will you be leaving soon?"

"I hope to do so." Arya replied, narrowing her eyes at him. "Why do you asks?"

"Ugh amm…" the boy flushed scarlet, "You see…I don't think Rodrig will try to leave you soon. So I was kind of hoping if you would want to go hawking with me."

Arya could only stare at the boy for a moment before deciding to answer him.

"No,"

"But –"

"I said no," She said before she took hold of the hawk and handed the bird to him once more.

"As you can see, I'm set for travel and I have no time to be hawking with some Tyrell heir at this time. So keep a tight leash on your hawk," Arya said, glaring at the hawk pointedly, who stared back at her with knowing eyes.

Afterward, Arya began to stalk hurriedly away, almost running away from there.

A few moments later, she was already nearing the location of the troupe when the hawk made its appearance again. This time the bird landed on top of her head, where it then proceeded to shit on her.

"God damnit!" Arya yelled, startling a few bystanders nearby. "What do you want from me?!"

In response, the hawk simply settled on her shoulder. Its talons digging into her shirt and skin and not letting go.

Arya growled in frustration.

Soon enough, she saw the Tyrell heir running towards her with a breathless look on his face.

Arya eyed him before she finally decided about her current situation.

"Damn it!" She cursed beneath her breath and met the Tyrell heir half way.

"Alright! Let's go hawking!" She snapped out, grabbing a hold of Willas Tyrell's gloved hand before dragging him away.

.


	9. A Promise Made

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> wherein Arya extracts a promise from a certain Tyrell heir

"How long have you been travelling by yourself?" the Tyrell lordling asked Arya as they stood beneath a canopy of trees.

Arya glanced at the other boy, silently wondering how he knows she's been travelling by herself.

"How did you know that I've been travelling by myself?" She asked him as she rubbed the hawk she had on her arm.

"I notice that you bought supplies only for yourself and you never mention any travelling companions." The boy replied, giving Arya a look.

"You are very perceptive for someone so young," was Arya's only comment, remembering Prince Rhaeger's same remark to Arya herself.

"Thank you, I've been taught my grandmother to notice the smallest details in any encounter I may have." Willas Tyrell informed her.

"Even encounters with a commoner like me?" She inquired, smiling wryly at him.

"Yes, especially with the smallfolk." The boy responded with a smile of his own.

"Your grandmother must be an interesting woman," Arya told him, letting the hawk fly away from her arm.

"Yes, she is," came the Tyrell heir's reply.

There is a moment of silence as they watch the hawk circle above them before it flew further away.

"Where did you come from originally?" Willas asked with a note of curiosity.

Arya suddenly became guarded at his question.

"Somewhere north from here," She replied evasively.

"And where are you planning to go?"

"My, are you the curious one," Arya said in amusement as she met the boy's hazel eyes.

Willas Tyrell's face flushed scarlet at her words.

"I apologize if I'm too forward in my inquiry." The lordling said to her, fidgeting in nervousness.

"It's alright," She told him, shrugging her shoulders. "As to your last question, I'm going south from here."

"To Dorne?" came his next query.

"Perhaps," was Arya's vague answer.

"To Old Town then?" the boy pressed on.

Arya immediately stiffened at the boy's question. But then forced herself to relax before the boy noticed something amiss about her.

"Probably," She said to him.

Before Willas Tyrell could say anything else, Arya suddenly heard a hissing sound close by. She scanned the ground and immediately caught sight of a black adder slithering towards the Tyrell heir.

"My Lord, don't move," Arya ordered the boy whose back was turn to the adder.

"Why? What's wrong?" the boy asked, sounding perplexed.

Arya didn't reply, instead she drew her dagger out.

There was a sudden flash of fear in the boy's eyes as he stared at the dagger in her hand while Arya could hear the boy's guards shout in alarm as they run towards them.

Then, with the flicked of her hand, Arya's dagger flew in the air and instantly impaled the venomous snake, which was about to strike the Tyrell heir.

The boy jumped in fright at her swift action.

"I apologize if I scared you for a moment there, my Lord. But there was a poisonous snake that was about to attack you," came Arya's nonchalant comment while she looked into the boy's fearful eyes.

"A snake?" Willas asked and looked behind him. He saw the snake with Arya's dagger on it and his face instantly paled.

That was the moment when the boy's guards arrive with their sword drawn out.

"Are you alright, my Lord?" one of the guards asked while the other guard shot towards Arya with his sword ready.

"STOP!" Willas Tyrell cried out and the blonde-haired guard immediately froze in his intent to strike Arya down. "Don't hurt her! She saved my life!"

"She saved your life, my Lord?" the guard with long, black hair asked.

"Yes, she killed a poisonous snake before it could bite me!" The lordling informed his guards.

The guards look at each other before their eyes landed on the dead adder on the ground.

Meanwhile, Arya had been ready to defend herself from the guard and had drawn out the castle-forge sword she had recently bought. However, now that the guards realized what really happened, Arya sheathed her sword and moved towards the dead snake to get her dagger.

"Perhaps it's time for us to get back to the castle, my Lord," said the blonde-haired guard who had intend to impale Arya with his sword.

"But – " the Tyrell heir began to protest.

"He's right, my Lord." Arya interrupted as she wiped the blood from her dagger on her travelling cloak. "It's no longer safe here. There could be more of those things around here."

"I understand," the Tyrell heir said to her, meeting her eyes. "Mayhap it's better that we go back to the castle…"

"Yes, you should," She agreed.

"Would you like to come with me then and join me for supper, my friend?" the Tyrell heir suddenly asked and Arya couldn't help but feel flattered at being called a friend by him.

"I can't, my Lord." Arya told him regretfully, "I plan on leaving soon before it gets dark."

"I see," the lordling muttered in disappointment. "I believe I am in your debt, my friend. At the very least, allow me to give you something."

"No need to do that, my Lord." Arya said hastily.

"I insist," Willas Tyrell said adamantly as he unpins his golden brooch from his lapel. "Here. This brooch is crafted from the likeness of the sigil of House Tyrell."

Willas informed her while he handed the brooch to her. Arya accepted the brooch, marveling how the golden flower gleamed in the mid-afternoon sun.

"I will give the brooch to you as a mark of our friendship." The Tyrell heir told her, "However, as for saving my life, you only need ask me anything and I will give it to you."

"Even if it is difficult to obtain?" Arya asked, raising a brow at the boy.

"Yes,"

Arya considered this for a moment before giving the boy her response.

"I won't ask you anything that you can't give me," She said to him, "But I want something else."

"What is it then?" the boy inquired curiously.

"A promise, my Lord," came Arya's response. "I want to extract a promise from you."

"What kind of promise, my friend?"

"I want you to promise me that you won't join the list in any Tourney in the future," was her reply.

"May I ask your reason behind this promise you ask of me?"

Arya hesitated, but decided to be honest to the other boy.

"Because I have foreseen you fall from your horse and break your legs, and I don't want that to happen to you."

"I see," the young lordling muttered thoughtfully, "Are you a seer then?"

"Yes, I am." Arya lied.

"Then, I trust your words, my friend. I won't join the list in any Tourney in the future, even if my father demands it." Willas Tyrell said, placing a hand over his heart. "This I promise you."

"Thank you, my Lord." She said, sounding relieved.

"You are welcome," came Willas' reply.

Afterward, Arya straightened and moved towards her pack which she had left near a willow tree.

"Are you leaving then?" the Tyrell heir asked her while Arya slipped the straps of her pack unto her shoulder.

"Yes, I am." She responded, glancing at the other boy.

"Have a safe journey then," Willas told her as he stepped closer to her and clapped a hand on her shoulder. "I hope to see you again someday, my friend."

"It's Arry," Arya decided to tell him while she placed a hand on the boy's shoulder. "My name is Arry."

"Well, Arry, it is an honor to make your acquaintance."

"As do I."

"This is farewell then," the boy said, letting go of her.

"Yes, farewell Lord Willas." Arya replied, allowing her hand to fall from his shoulder.

"Call me Willas," the boy said with a grin.

"Willas then," Arya said, smiling in return. "Farewell Willas."

After having said that, Arya turned and left her new friend behind to continue on with her journey.

.

.

.

"That was you, wasn't it?" Arya demanded as soon as she made contact with the three-eyed-raven. "You were in that hawk!"

"Yes, I was," came the old man's reply.

"Why did you do it? Why did you send Willas Tyrell running in my direction?"

"I believe you already know the answer to that, Arya Stark."

"So that I can extract a promise from the Tyrell heir and make me his friend. Is that the reason why?"

"Yes,"

"Well, you could have told me this before it happened!" She snapped.

"If I told you before, it wouldn't have happened at all."

Arya grumbled but allowed the three-eyed-raven to escape her wrath this time.

.

.

.

.

.

Arya arrived in Old Town three days after. She marveled at the Hightower she could see in the distance as she rode through the winding roads on her way to the Citadel. And sooner than she would expect, she arrived at her destination and saw the marble sphinxes at the entrance of the Citadel.

A stable boy came out and took Arya's horse while another boy ushered her inside, where she was told to wait for a Maester to admit her. Arya was slightly nervous, but perhaps she shouldn't have worried because the Maester who arrived to see her only asked her a few questions before admitting her.

She thought it was going to be difficult to enter the Citadel, but she was wrong. However, she soon realized that the reason she was accepted so easily was because the Maesters probably needed more people to clean shit out of bedpans and take care of the sick.

After the Maester admitted her, Arya was then shown to her room, which she shared with other four novices. Thereafter, Arya was then given a set of novice clothes before the Maester ordered her to follow him.

On her first day as a novice, she was already being ordered around by the Maesters to do different tasks; cleaning shit out of bedpans being the first task that Arya had to do. She realized that she couldn't possibly want to continue doing this everyday. So Arya vowed to herself not to stay long inside the Citadel.

Thus, on her third day, Arya was able to steal a key from a sleeping Maester and sneak into the forbidden section.

However, it was on that same night that Arya ran into trouble.

Arya had just entered the forbidden section and was about to start looking for books about the Faceless Men and the History of the Long Night, when she heard the sound of a throat clearing somewhere behind her.

Someone had followed her without her noticing and Arya became alarmed.

Instantly, she whirled around and saw a familiar young man standing at the entrance to the forbidden section.

"You know…you're not allowed to be here," came the man's drawling voice. His Dornish accent thick around the edges.

Arya knew the man, of course. She had seen him often in the library and reading to his heart content while Arya struggled with the daily tasks in the Citadel for three days.

The man who caught her sneaking into the forbidden section was none other than the Prince of Dorne himself.

Prince Oberyn Martell.

Arya Stark was completely fucked.

 .


	10. The Red Viper of Dorne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> wherein Arya explains things to the Red Viper of Dorne

"What are you doing here in the middle of the night novice?" asked the Prince while he regarded Arya with his coal-black eyes.

In response, Arya could only gape at him. Her mind racing for a possible explanation to give him and found none.

"I - errr- ugh -" She stammered.

"Let me guess. You are here to read the scrolls and books that the Maester expressly forbid you?" the Prince asked, stepping towards her.

"What?! No! Of course not!" Arya denied while her mind floundered to provide a valid explanation. "I am sent here by - by Maester Walgrave! To - to get the book that he requires!"

"Really? In the middle of the night?" Prince Oberyn asked in disbelief.

"Yes!" She replied. "Maester Walgrave requires a book for his nightly reading you see."

"I don't believe you," the Prince stated while he drew closer to her.

"Well, I'm speaking the truth!" Arya snapped back.

"Well, all I hear is you spouting lies," the Prince retorted. "Now, let me see what you've got there."

Arya glanced down at the books in her arms and said to the Prince, "I don't think so."

Then, without hesitation, she launched herself towards the exit with the intent of escaping from there. However, the Prince of Dorne was just as swift as her that Arya found herself directly slamming against the Prince's hard body.

"You're not going anywhere, novice." the Prince said while he grabbed her around the waist.

"Let me go, you piece of shit!" Arya snarled as she struggled against him. "Maester Walgrave will be piss if I'm late in giving him these books!"

"Stop lying!" the Prince barked as he pushed Arya against a bookshelf. Books and scrolls instantly fell at the Prince's action. "And I will only let you go, if you tell me the truth!"

"I. Am. Telling. The. Truth!" She gritted out as she tried to headbutt the infuriating man.

Prince Oberyn managed to avoid her head just in time as he held her struggling figure down.

"I already know that you are a girl, so what more are you hiding?!" The Prince asked as he gazed down at her.

At the Prince's admission, Arya instantly froze.

"You know that I'm a girl?" She asked in surprise.

"Yes!" the Prince said sharply.

"But how?" was Arya's shock query.

"That's a funny story, you see…" the Prince began, smiling at her sardonically as he told her the story. "The other day, I had a strange dream of a black raven telling me to go bathe in the bathhouse. The dream woke me up. Since I was curious to know about what the dream meant, so that very morning, I did what the raven told me, I went to the bathhouse, and lo and behold, I saw you bathing there as well, and discovered that you didn't have a cock,"

So the three-eyed-raven was to be blame for all this. Arya was going to have a word with the old man later on tonight.

"If you realize that I am a girl, why haven't you told the Maesters yet?" Arya wondered out loud.

"Because I want to find out myself the reason you have disguise yourself as a boy in the first place." Prince Oberyn responded. "I want to know the reason you are here in the Citadel."

"So I guess that you've been following me all along, huh?" She said, scowling at the man.

"Yes, I was…" was the Prince's answer. "Now, what are you doing in the forbidden section?"

Arya regarded the Prince before finally giving him an honest answer. There must be a reason the three-eyed-raven had contacted the Prince of Dorne.

"I was searching for books," She told him.

"About what?"

"The Long Night and the Faceless Men," she said, not holding back the truth. She already knew that the Prince would only look at books in her arms and find out if she was telling the truth or not.

And as predicted, the Prince ordered to her afterward, "Let me see the books you took."

He clearly didn't trust her, as could be expected from someone who is obviously suspicious of Arya's motives.

She handed the books to the Prince, who immediately took them from her grasp. Arya watched him in silence while he read the titles of the books.

"Why are you interested in both of these books?" the Prince queried as he looked at her.

"Because I want to learn more about the subject," was Arya's simple answer.

"That's not a good enough answer," came the Prince's sharp remark. "I want to know the reason you choose these books, instead of other far more titillating titles."

Arya allowed herself to sigh as she leaned back against the bookshelves behind her.

"You want an honest answer?" She asked, crossing her arms in front of her.

"Yes," was the Prince's curt response.

"Fine, then." She said, preparing herself for the lie that she was about to tell him. "I will tell you the truth. I came here to the Citadel to learn more about the Long Night and the Faceless Men because of a strange dream."

"A dream?" The Prince asked.

"Like you, I had a dream of the black raven you speak of." She began, meeting the Prince's stare. "The raven showed me about what happens in the future, about a terrifying future where the White Walkers and their wights have broken through the Wall and ushered the Long Night. I have dreams about watching my family trying to fight the horde of dead men, but to no avail. I have dreams about the terrible, dark future of the Seven Kingdoms being overrun by the dead army and creating an eternal winter...I have dream about these things and more. The reason I wanted to read these books is because I want to find a way to stop the Long Night before it happens."

The Prince of Dorne could only stare at her in disbelief after hearing her explanation.

"First of all, the things you said is really hard for me believe," came the Prince's response as he met her gaze. "Second, that doesn't explain the reason you have taken the book about the Faceless Men. If you intend to stop the Long Night, what is the Faceless Men got to do with it?"

"I took the book because I want to know more about the Faceless Men. I need to learn their secrets and initiation rights because I plan to kill someone important, someone in such a high position, who can easily be replaced by a better person that can make changes once he assumes position."

"So you mean you plan to kill the Mad King?" Prince Oberyn asked bluntly.

"Who says it was the Mad King that I intend to assassinate?" She said evasively.

"Because he's the only person who holds the position and power to begin the preparations for the coming Long Night you speak of, and he can be easily replace by his son, who will be a far better ruler than he is."

In response, Arya shrugged her shoulders, "I won't deny anything, or protest against your suspicion."

"As I would not act against you despite your treasonous plans," Prince Oberyn said, "Moreover, you're only but a child, I don't believe you're capable of successfully accomplishing such a task."

"I may look like a child, but I'm more than capable of killing anyone, even a Prince." She told him.

At her threatening words, Prince Oberyn simply shook his head at her.

"If you say so, novice." He commented doubtfully.

A moment lapsed as the two regarded each other in silence.

"Now that I explained to you the reason I'm here. Will you let me go already?" Arya asked the Prince, who was still blocking her escape path.

"Of course," came his immediate answer while he stepped back from her.

"Thank you," She said to him, sounding relieved.

"And you don't need to worry about me revealing your secret." the Prince suddenly said to her and Arya could only gazed at him in consternation. "I won't be telling the Maesters about you being female or the books that you've taken from the forbidden section."

"Why? What's your reason for keeping my secret?" She asked him suspiciously.

"You don't need to look suspicious. The reason I'm not going to tell the Maesters anything, is because I believe you about your strange dreams, about the black raven who showed you about the Long Night."

"Really?" She said, appearing perplexed at his words.

"Yes,  _really,"_ Prince Oberyn said. "Afterall, you're not the only one who is having strange dreams."

"Well, if that's the case. I will say my thanks then," She told him. "Thank you for intending to keep my secret."

"You are very welcome," said the Prince, giving Arya cocksure smile.

There's a pause as the two tried to find something to say to each other next.

"We should better leave here before someone discovers us," Arya suggested to him.

"You are quite right. Let's better leave." Prince Oberyn replied while he place the books back in Arya's grasp. "Here's your books."

"Thank you," She told him as she placed the thick tomes securely in her arms.

"You never told me your name was," came the Prince statement while they walked towards the door.

"My name is Arry," She said, glancing at the Prince, who was walking beside her.

"Well, it's an honor to meet you Arry...and I apologize for pushing you hard against the bookshelves earlier." was the Prince's reply as they exited the forbidden section, with Arya locking the door behind her.

"It's alright," She said, "I wasn't hurt in the least."

"Good," the Prince said as he stood before her. "Well, I will see you around then."

"I will see you around," Arya responded, nodding her head.

With a nod of his own, Prince Oberyn Martell left her there while Arya simply watched him leave. She silently wondered if she made the right choice in letting the Prince live, especially when he now knew the truth about her.

"Perhaps I will ask the three-eyed-raven about him," She decided as she began to walk towards the room she shared with the other three novices.

.

.

.

.

Arya Stark had only been in Oldtown for four days when she went and discovered the Inn called  _Quill and Tankard._

It would be the first time that she's been there, but already she found herself at a conundrum.

She hadn't even started eating her food, when a familiar man suddenly sat down in front of her.

He had white hair on one side and red hair on the other. His handsome and fine features are recognizable even in such a young face.

Arya Stark could only stare at the man she had known in her previous life.

"This man is very hungry," the man said to her with a wide, knowing grin. "Might the girl want to give her meal?"

"This girl is hungry too," Arya replied sarcastically. "So you better buy your own food."

The man looked amused at her response.

"This man has a coin. Perhaps it would suffice for the girl's meal." The man replied, flipping a coin towards her.

Arya caught it at once and her heart nearly stopped at the sight of the familiar iron coin in her hand.

She looked up and meet the eyes of one Jaqen H'ghar.

"What does the girl say to Death?" He asked.

To which Arya Stark immediately responded, "Not today."

.

 


	11. The Assassin's Gift

"What are you doing here Jaqen?" Arya asked curiously after following Jaqen to a deserted alleyway near the  _Quill and Tankard_  so that they could talk alone.

"A man is here for a mission to help the girl," came Jaqen's vague answer as he leaned back against the wall.

"Help me with what?" She said, crossing her arms in front of her.

"Help the girl become a Faceless man without going to Braavos." The assassin replied.

"But how did you know that I need help with that? And who I am, and where I am for that matter?" She inquired.

"Because a man is told to do so by the Order of the Faceless Men." The man responded in a voice loaded with mystery.

"And why would they want to help me?" Arya asked.

"Since the Faceless Men believe in dreams, and dreaming is a little death where you hear the whispers of the Many-Faced-God. The Faceless Men has ordered this man to come to the girl's aid due to these strange dreams of a terrible morrow. That is all the girl needs to know." Jaqen said to her.

 _Brynden's work again, I presume._ Arya thought in exasperation.  _Still, this means that I don't need to go to Braavos anymore and learn the secrets of the Faceless Men. Not when Jaqen has found me._

"So how do you intend to help me?" She inquired, her eyes narrowing.

"A man has already help the girl." Jaqen said, giving Arya a disarming smile, which she found suspicious. Immediately, her guard was up as she listened to the man's next words. "With the coin in the girl's hand, this man has already given the Order's blessing. A blessing for the girl to serve the Many-Faced-God."

"You mean this iron coin is all it takes for me to become the servant of the Many-Faced-God?" Arya said in surprise as she glanced at the coin in her hand.

"Yes, the iron coin is given only to potential acolytes, for it is anointed with the holy oil that the Order use to change Faces. Once the girl has taken the coin, the girl will become one of us," Jaqen informed her. "However, for the girl to be truly accepted by the Order, the girl must face a certain test."

There was a short pause while Arya allowed Jaqen's words to sink into her mind.

"Let me guess, this test involves me killing a person?" She asked dryly.

"Yes, you must take a life of a person and claim his face. That's the test that the girl must undergo. This test is to see if the girl has what it takes to kill a person in the name of the Many-Faced-God."

"That seems easy enough," She remarked as she met Jaqen's amused green eyes. "So who should I kill?"

"No one of importance. Just an old man who calls himself as Maester Walgrave."

"You only want me to kill a Maester? That's all?" Arya said doubtfully. "Are you certain of this?"

"Yes, this man is certain. After all, this test is only to prove that the girl can kill without remorse. The girl doesn't need to kill someone important to prove her worth to the Many-Faced-God."

"Well, if that's the case, consider it done. I will kill the Maester tonight." She stated.

"Then, may you have the blessing of the Many-Faced-God, sweet girl." Jaqen told her as he placed a hand on her shoulder. "This man will see the girl on the morrow then once the girl has done the deed. For this man has something to give the girl afterward."

"Of course," she said to him. "Tomorrow it is then. Same place and same time?"

"Yes," Jaqen said as he let go of her shoulder. "This man shall meet the girl here at noon."

"Alright." she said, nodding her head.

"Until tomorrow then," Jaqen stated as he threw his hood up. "Valar Dohaeris, Lyanna Stark."

"Valar Morghulis," was Arya's automatic reply.

Afterward, she watched as Jaqen silently stride away with his hood pulled over his face.

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.

Killing Maester Walgrave was easy, while donning his face and replacing him was not as difficult as she had imagined. Arya made certain that she hid the body where no one could find it while she took over the Maester's identity. Meanwhile, she could now sense the Faceless Men's magic on her as she wore the Maester's dead face.

Of course, Arya used this opportunity to enter into the Forbidden section of the library and acquiring the books that she needed. Arya had also stolen most of the money from the dead Maester and some of his valuables that she could use once she escaped from the Citadel, which she intend to do so after she met up with Jaqen.

By the next day, Arya was already packed and ready to leave the Citadel with the things that she had stolen. However, she must still meet Jaqen and tell him about her success in killing the Maester.

"The deed is done," was the first thing she said to him when she met him in an alleyway outside the Quill and Tankard at noon.

"Well done, sweet girl." The assassin said while smiling. "As can be expected from a experienced killer...And now that the girl has pass the test, this man must give the girl a gift before departing."

"A gift? What kind of gift?" She said shortly, her eyes landing on something behind Jaqen's back.

"A gift that the girl may find useful in the future." Jaqen responded as he took out something hidden beneath his cloak and gave Arya a wooden box.

Arya took the box and slowly opened it. Inside the box was vials of liquid and powder, which she suspected were poisons.

"First, a selection of poisons at the girl's disposal. A good way of eliminating potential threats for the girl's mission," came Jaqen's comment as Arya continued to gaze at the box containing different kinds of poisons in her hand.

"Second, a sturdy and reliable weapon for the girl to wield in her journey." Jaqen then hand the wrapped object that he had carried on his back.

Arya took the object from Jaqen's hand and immediately sensed what was inside the wrapped cloth.

If she guessed correctly, it was a wooden staff that Jaqen gave her.

"A staff?" She asked as she felt the wrapped object with her hands.

"Yes, a wooden staff carved out from a weirdwood tree," was the man's response. "From this man's understanding, you know how to wield it."

"Yes, I do know how to use the staff. I was trained in using it during my years as an acolyte of the Faceless Men." Arya informed him.

"This girl is fortunate then, to have acquired such a gift from the Order," Jaqen commented. "The girl must use these gifts well, and serve the Many-Faced-God to the best of the girl's abilities."

"I shall serve the Many-Faced-God as best as I can, Jaqen." Arya said. "So thank you for everything,"

"The girl is always welcome." Jaqen told her. "And now that I have given the girl the gifts. This man will be bidding his leave. This man's task here is done."

"Where do you plan to go next?" Arya asked.

In response, Jaqen H'gar just smiled mysteriously before he said, "The girl must ask the same question to herself. Where shall the girl go next?"

"Me?" She said, sounding surprise at the question. "I think I shall go back to King's Landing."

"Then, this man bid you good fortune in all your endevours, Lyanna Stark." Jaqen said, reaching out to touch Arya's cheek. Jaqen's hand was warm and full of calluses, but it was a gentle touch that made Arya think of the past where Jaqen was still her teacher.

"As I do wish you good fortune in yours, Jaqen." She finally replied, smiling up at him. "I hope to see you again though,"

"And the girl shall, but this man shall be wearing a different face when it happens." The man replied, grinning widely.

Arya just let out a soft laugh and said, "Then, I shall be searching through a crowd of strangers for you."

"The girl can only hope that you shall recognize this man among the strangers," came Jaqen's amused answer.

"A girl can only hope, indeed." She said, "Well...this is farewell then, my friend."

"Yes, farewell Lyanna Stark." Jaqen said as he let go of her face. "One day, this man and the girl must meet in the same road."

"Yes, we shall," She responded.

"Valar Dohaeris," The man said to her finally.

"Valar Morghulis," was the last thing she said to him right before she watched him leave.

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End file.
